Thick as Thieves
by Jemmz
Summary: OC fic. This is an AU story about Lucas having a twin brother. Instead of rebelling like Lucas, Michael – his brother – remains loyal to their father. This fic explores their relationship and what would have happened in the series had Michael existed.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Thick as Thieves

**Rating:** T just in case for later

**Warnings: **None for this chapter

**Characters: **Lucas Taylor, Michael Taylor (OC), Nathaniel Taylor, Skye Tate, Alicia Washington, possibly the Shannon family

**Summary: **This is an AU story about Lucas having a twin brother. Instead of rebelling like Lucas, Michael – his brother – remains loyal to their father. This fic explores their relationship and what would have happened in the series had Michael existed. There will be some Lucas/Skye in future chapters…

* * *

><p><em>Well, you may be the traitor<br>I will hold the smoking gun  
>You'll get away clean<br>I'll keep your secrets  
>Till the grave has swallowed me<br>And I will never tell a tortured soul  
>That are burning by my side<br>That I am a sinner, I am a savior, I am alive_

~ Thick as Thieves, Dashboard Confessional

* * *

><p>It had been years since the brothers' last meeting together. The boys had hardly turned twenty-one when Lucas' hate-fuelled rebellion against their father turned sour, causing him to be permanently exiled from Terra Nova. Four long years of separation had forced them to become accustomed to a life where part of them was forever missing, and eventually it began to feel like the other had not existed at all. That is, until now.<p>

His years alone in the wilderness had made their mark on Lucas, who had now evolved in to what seemed to be the complete opposite of his twin brother, Michael. His clothes were ragged and much shabbier compared to Michael's neat military uniform, and he had neglected to wash and shave, contrasting greatly to his brother's clean and smooth appearance. Lucas even looked slightly older, despite Michael being the elder twin, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural bitterness. Michael tried to think at what point it was in their lives that he and Lucas had become so different from one another.

Of course, things hadn't always been like this. They had been a regular family, just like anybody else. It was common for them to fight or argue, but they loved each other in equal measure, and they always supported each other through rough times. That had always been the case until the latter part of their youth.

"So when are you going to do it?" Lucas muttered, bringing Michael out of his thoughts. His eyes were smirking.

"Do what?" Michael asked, the gun rattling in his hand.

"Kill me."

And then, for some reason, Michael was reminded of the day they first came to Terra Nova. It was the year 2142 and their father had already travelled through the portal several months prior. At eighteen years old, the boys had enjoyed their brief time without a parental figure, especially Lucas whose rebellious ways never failed to cause his more responsible brother a certain amount of distress. Michael guessed he was making up for lost time, since Lucas' passion for science caused him to be quite an outcast among his peers, whilst Michael led an active and enjoyable social life.

"Is the portal ready?" Michael questioned the soldiers, saluting them after removing the mask from his face and breathing in the clean air.

Lucas came up behind him, smirking, looping an arm around his brother's neck. The resemblance between them was quite striking. "Yeah, come on," he added loudly. "My brother and I haven't seen our father in months."

Michael rolled his eyes, smiling.

"It'll just be a few minutes," the soldier responded, keeping a straight face. "If you'll follow me to the portal…"

"Lead the way," Lucas smirked again, narrowing his eyes. He patted his brother on the back and they began to walk up the bridge towards the portal.

"Do you really think this'll be a new start for us?" Michael asked apprehensively, glancing up at Lucas briefly.

"Brother, I know it is. This is the day everything changes." Michael saw his brother smile, but his eyes didn't seem to be smiling with him. "We can put the past behind us."

They stopped in front of the portal, the blue lighting stinging their eyes and making them squint. Michael fell silent for a moment.

"After mom died, I thought that was the end of the world," he mumbled, frowning. He almost regretted saying it when he saw the hurt in his brother's expression. The silence continued for a few moments.

"It's okay," Lucas replied, clearing his throat, but the green in his eyes were blurring. He swallowed. "Me too." He turned to face him directly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But everything's gonna work out. I promise."

Michael didn't have time to consider if there had been any deeper meaning to that.

"Gentleman, the portal's ready for your journey."

"You have my equipment?" Lucas asked, his expression suddenly gravely serious.

The soldier nodded.

"You're about to time travel, and you're worried about your science experiments?" Michael scoffed, raising his dark eyebrows.

Lucas smirked again. "My work is very important to me, Michael."

His brother rolled his eyes.

"Last one in loses," Lucas proposed, poking Michael in the chest.

"Seriously? Okay," he chuckled. "See you on the other side." And he grabbed his bag and leapt towards the portal. Lucas watched his brother disappear, his expression darkening. And for a moment, he was alone in this world. No father, mother, brother. Just himself, alone. He took one last glance at the reality he had been living in his entire life. Then he turned once again to the portal, his dark grin resurfacing, and he stepped forwards.

The sun was brighter than expected, and the colours and smells that met his senses were quite overwhelming. Michael had his arms around someone who was embracing him tightly. Lucas recognised his father almost immediately. The old man looked up and grinned widely.

"Lucas," and he held his arm out to embrace him too.

He hesitated for a moment, then accepted the hug, his forced smile tightening.

"I'm glad to see you boys again. Welcome to Terra Nova."

And their new lives had finally begun.

**A/N: To be continued. And I'm definitely continuing this. I have a lot of ideas. But if you like this I hope you'll be patient between updates. Thanks so much for reading :D **


	2. Chapter 2

Thick as Thieves chapter 2

At the time, the New World didn't look as impressive as it eventually would, but it was a start. At least the limitless beauty of the scenery at Terra Nova was a pleasing contrast to the ugly, poisonous world they left behind. Their father took them on a tour around their new home, showed them where the houses were being constructed and described to them what the colony would look like once it was finished. He even showed them outside the gates to the idyllic land that circled the colony.

Michael was overwhelmed. He had never seen a place so peaceful before, so stunning, except perhaps in stories and old photographs he saw when he was a child. He was mesmerised by the rushing waterfalls, the blue sky, the endless green of the grass and the trees. But Lucas never seemed interested in all that. Instead, he often wasted hour after hour locked inside his lab, working. Michael eventually grew concerned about his brother's isolated behaviour.

Leaning over Lucas' desk one morning, he eyed the endless papers scattered around the room. "What are you working on, brother?"

"Nothing." He looked flustered as he gathered up the sheets and stacked them to one side. Michael observed him. He had bags forming under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in weeks, and his hair was thick and matted. He also seemed to be wearing the same shabby clothes as yesterday. Michael felt somewhat overdressed with his new uniform and his neatly combed hair. But then he supposed Lucas wasn't the one trying to impress their father.

"You okay? You look…tired."

"I've been working hard," Lucas muttered. "There's so much to do."

"Like what?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't concern you."

Michael's eyebrows furrowed. He looked offended. "You always used to tell me about your work."

Lucas paused, frowning, and then he ran a hand across his tired face before forcing a smile. "And you're telling me it didn't fall on deaf ears?" he teased, facing Michael.

"I'm not big on science, but I always listened," he murmured.

Lucas sighed. "It's nothing, really. Just a few random experiments to satisfy my own curiosity. This place, it's so fascinating. So much to discover."

"And you don't think you can discover it _outside_?"

A hollow laugh escaped from Lucas. He grinned, shook his head. "You're right. Why don't you tell our father I'll be out in a minute."

Michael straightened up. He looked unsure. But Lucas insisted, so he left without another word. He only turned back once and was disappointed to see his brother already scribbling down some more calculations.

Since their arrival here, Lucas hadn't quite been the same. Then again, he wasn't your typical teenager, and he hadn't been all that normal to begin with. Not since the murder of their mother, a tragedy which undoubtedly shook them all, but had the bigger impact on Lucas since he had been so vulnerable and in the middle of it all. Michael could tell that he had never fully recovered from that day.

Michael still remembered it vividly. Hiding behind the rock where their father had ordered him to stay, he witnessed from afar his twin brother, crying, covered in bruises, being dragged away from their shrieking mother as they tortured her. Their father had Lucas slung over his shoulder, tears streaming down both their faces, and Lucas was screaming for their mother, holding his hands out towards her beaten body as he was taken further and further away from her.

He'd never understand why his mother had to die, but he knew his father had done what he could to save her. And without him, Lucas would probably be dead too. Not that his brother had ever showed an ounce of gratitude for it. But from that day forward a darkness seemed to resonate within his twin, one that showed up best whenever he was sad or angry, and then he only ever truly found happiness when he was locked away in his lab with his science experiments. It was very rare that Michael was able to make him laugh or smile like he used to. And then the time rip was discovered, and Lucas seemed to reset, as if the thought of a new world was the answer to everything.

Maybe it was. That's what everyone else seemed to think.

"Where's your brother?" his father asked him. He had his uniform on and a sonic pistol in his holster.

Michael squinted, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. "He's still inside. He said he's coming but I don't think he is." He bit his lip. "I'm worried about him, dad. It doesn't seem…healthy."

"Lucas has always been passionate about his work," Taylor shrugged. "At least now he's in the Science Division he's putting it to good use." He paused, noticing the worry in his son's face. "Don't worry. This is just how he deals with things. Let him work. In the meantime, I can talk to you about your duties."

Michael followed him eagerly as his father led the way towards the gates, explaining to him the responsibilities and the expectations that came with his new rank. Full of ambition and enthusiasm, Michael was excited to be a part of Terra Nova's legacy. He wanted to make his father proud, having admired him since he and Lucas were small boys. Joining the security team felt like the right way to go about it.

"You'll need one of these," he added, handing Michael the sonic pistol. He took it, examining the dangerous equipment when a woman in combat uniform approached.

"Commander Taylor, sir," she said, standing to attention, and when Michael looked up he couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Ah, Wash," Taylor smiled. "I'd like you to meet my son, Michael. Michael, this is Lieutenant Alicia Washington."

Michael didn't blink. She was beautiful. Glossy dark hair, perfect teeth, lovely brown eyes. She was a little older than him, but he hadn't been bothered about that at the time. And then she smiled, and he was besotted. "Lieutenant," he greeted eventually, clearing his throat.

"I've heard so much about you and your brother. It's nice to finally meet you," she said, extending her hand.

Michael took it, feeling the brief sensation of her warm skin against his. She had a firm grip. "Hi."

"You were only a boy when Wash and I were at war together. I wasn't sure if you'd remember her," his father explained.

Michael cleared his throat again, his green eyes meeting the Lieutenant's. "Uh, no, sorry. But it's a pleasure, um, meeting you now." He offered her a friendly smile.

"You too." She smiled again. "I'm certainly looking forward to working with you, Michael." Then she turned towards Commander Taylor. "Could I talk to you about something? I have some ideas I thought we could discuss."

"Of course. Excuse us, Michael. We'll talk again later."

"Sure."

His eyes followed them as Taylor walked away with Lieutenant Washington by his side. Michael was fascinated by her. He wanted more of her. But she was an outstanding, mature woman, and he was still so young and foolish. A woman of that stature wouldn't look twice at a boy like him. She had fought in wars, he had achieved nothing. To her, he was just Commander Taylor's son.

Not long ago, a situation like this would have led to Michael ranting on about it to Lucas until his ears bled. Or until Lucas' temper got the better of him and he snapped. Michael knew his brother hadn't had as much experience with girls as he had, and he knew Lucas would never offer him any sufficient advice, but for some reason it just made him feel better to talk to him about it.

"My heart bleeds for you, brother", he'd say. "You've got the girls chasing you. What a miserable life you must lead."

He felt guilty about it now, but Lucas' cynicism was probably what gave him the boost he needed; at least he would never be as miserable as his brother.

Talking about this kind of thing with him now was certainly out of the question. Sometimes he felt as though Lucas didn't even acknowledge his existence and although he would never admit it, this hurt Michael in a way he'd never expected. He wished Lucas was more like him; more assertive, more confident. He just wanted him to be happy.

But for now, he'd leave Lucas in the dungeon he had created for himself. Leave him to immerse himself in codes and digits and cold calculations. Perhaps one day he would realise just what he was missing out on.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Thick as Thieves Chapter 3

Time was a funny thing here. It was hard to describe how much of it had gone by when the years didn't exist and the seasons all seemed to merge in to one. For the past few years, Michael had been keeping track of the date on his Plex, but today, he didn't need to. He just knew. Even without checking what month it was supposed to be, he could just sense it approaching, like a warning of some sort in the back of his mind. Even Lucas, who seemed oblivious to what hour it was let alone the month, seemed to acknowledge the significance of this particular date. And of course, Taylor always knew, so when he was summoned again to his father's office just like last year or the year before that, he thought nothing of it.

"Michael," he nodded from behind his desk, getting to his feet. He looked older than usual today; tired, weary. But Michael couldn't blame him. "How is everything today? No problems?"

"No, sir," Michael replied, his lips forming a sad smile. "Everything's fine."

"And how are you?" Taylor questioned, looking sympathetically at his son.

"I'm…I'm fine," lied Michael, crossing his arms. "I'm fine, dad. You?"

His father didn't answer. "I want you and Lucas to meet me for a drink in twenty minutes. I'm going to ask Wash to look after things for a while so we can spend some time together…as a family."

Michael nodded. "Okay. Sure. I'll go and get Lucas."

He turned for the door, sighing. He wasn't sure Lucas would agree to this family meeting. Even now at twenty-one, all the stubbornness and arrogance of his adolescence still seemed to plague him. He had almost become a hermit, always refusing to take part in the annual festivals and still choosing to pursue his research rather than spend time with his family or make friends. The years he had spent inside with his studies meant he had grown pale and thin. Michael even seemed to grow a couple inches taller than his brother who remained aggravatingly short. He worried for his health, physical as well as mental. He seemed angry all the time, distant, and he appeared to be holding on to a lot of bottled up rage. Michael feared what would happen when he finally let it out.

His anxieties were immediately pacified, however, when he saw Lieutenant Washington at the door. Her hair was down today, flowing elegantly over her shoulders, and her smile made him aware of how hard his heart was beating.

"Lieutenant," he greeted, flashing her a charming smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully and smirked as she brushed passed him. He caught her scent briefly and was intoxicated as he reached the stairs, glancing back at her one last time before climbing down to the bottom and waiting.

After five minutes, he spotted her leave his father's office, and as soon as she reached the last step he grabbed her around the waist and lured her underneath the stairs, pressing his mouth on to hers.

She was stunned for a moment, and then she kissed him back, smiling against his lips, pulling him closer. Then she hit him.

"What are you doing? Nobody's supposed to know about us!" she chastised, laughing.

He pulled her close again and grinned. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You look amazing as usual."

She laughed again. Michael was probably the only person who could ever make her blush. She gently tried to pull away as he planted kisses on her neck, wrapped his arms around her. "If your father finds out…"

"So what if he does?" he questioned, gazing in to her brown eyes, placing her soft wavy hair behind her ears. "I'm tired of keeping us a secret."

"It's complicated, you know that," she frowned, rubbing his shoulders with her hands. "You're the Commander's son. And I'm older than you."

He scoffed. "What does that matter?"

"It matters," she said. "I don't want Taylor thinking I'm…_unprofessional_."

She saw the hurt in the emerald green of his eyes. But he nodded sadly. "For the record, you're the best damn professional we've got," he told her, smiling again.

She brushed his cheek with her thumb and gazed at him adoringly. "Thank you. You're not so bad yourself."

He grinned again and held either side of her head with his hands, laughing, kissing her. And then he kissed her one last time before she had to leave. He watched her go, missing the warmth of her presence already, when he saw Lucas in the distance with one of the new female recruits.

He approached them slowly, confused, and then judging by the couple's body language, he deduced what was happening. The girl he was with didn't look impressed, however, and he felt a pang of sympathy for his brother's wasted efforts as she began to walk away.

"Wait," Lucas urged, and then made the mistake of grabbing her by the arm. "I wasn't finished."

She snapped back, crying out in pain. "Are you crazy? Let go!"

Michael witnessed Lucas grabbing her, hurting her. And he saw his face, full of anger. Full of pain.

"_Don't_ call me crazy," Lucas muttered, as if she had set off a trigger inside him.

"Then stop _acting_ like a crazy person and let go of me," she demanded, trying to shake him off.

Lucas squeezed. He couldn't help it. "_Don't call me crazy_," he told her again, more vehemently this time. She saw the violent flash in his eyes, and she shook him off, frightened.

"Hey, what's going on?" Michael intervened, creating a barrier between the two. He turned to the girl. "You're Reilly, right? One of the new recruits? You okay?"

Reilly straightened herself up, avoiding Lucas' piercing gaze. "Yeah. I'm fine. I've got to go."

Lucas didn't watch her walk away. She was obviously a lost cause. He knew his chances were slim anyway but he thought since she was new he may have gotten lucky. It was a shame, though. He could have done with a female companion to comfort him, especially today.

"What is the matter with you, Lucas?" Michael hissed, taking his brother by the shoulders. Lucas didn't look at him, but he scowled indirectly at him. "You can't act like that. Don't you know anything about girls?"

"I'm sure you can fill me in," Lucas replied bitterly, shaking Michael off of him.

"I know you're upset –"

"Brother, I'm not upset. That pretty little thing meant nothing to me."

"Not about her. You know what today is?"

Lucas narrowed his eyes at him. "Of course I know what today is," he spat.

"Then come on. We're meeting dad at the house for a drink."

"No, thanks," Lucas muttered, already turning away.

Michael frowned, releasing a sigh. "Lucas, please. We need to be together as a family for once." He watched Lucas stop in his tracks, could feel his hesitance. "Please," he said again. "It's what _she_ would have wanted."

Lucas bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. But he turned around and walked back towards Michael, frowning. "One drink," he murmured, pushing passed him.

At the house, Lucas sat slumped over the table, staring vacantly out of the window at the construction work. The third pilgrimage was due soon and they were working on building more houses, much to Lucas' chagrin. The constant hammering and sawing was a continual disruption to his work. He glanced up at Michael who set a cup in front of him and sat down opposite.

"She called me Michael," Lucas said.

"Who?"

"That girl." He looked away again. "For a moment she thought I was you. Funny, huh?"

Michael paused, examining Lucas' hunched over posture, his paranoid gaze, his miserable frown.

"What is with you?" Michael asked, concerned. "You haven't been quite right since we got here."

"I don't know what you mean," Lucas muttered in response, propping his head up on his arm as he stared down at the cup in front of him.

"You spend hour after hour in that lab of yours, working. But you never seem to come up with anything. What are you spending all your time on?"

Lucas showed off a mischievous smirk. "I'm trying to fix everything, brother. To achieve the impossible."

Michael raised an eyebrow, but before he could question it any further their father emerged from behind them. He stood behind Michael and patted him on the back. "Hi, boys. Thanks for coming."

Michael turned to greet him but when he turned back he noticed Lucas had sat further back in his seat, as if trying to avoid him. He didn't say a word, didn't even make eye contact. He simply stared off in to the background and frowned.

Their father sat down next to Michael and sighed. "I can't believe it's been seven years already."

Michael raised his cup to his lips. "I know."

There was a brief pause. "I wish she could have been here for your twenty-first birthday."

"Why?" scoffed Lucas so suddenly that Michael nearly choked on his drink. "So she could have tagged along with us on that miserable fishing trip?"

Michael shook his head at his brother. Taylor sighed again, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Lucas," he said dryly. "I thought you'd enjoy doing something different for a change."

Lucas took a swig of his drink, refusing to comment anymore, remembering how he'd sat bored out of his mind by the cliff, watching the waves crash below as his father and brother bonded over the mindless activity. He had always hated fishing.

They sat in silence for a few moments and then Taylor raised his cup. "To your mother. I hope wherever she is now, she's looking down on us, watching us, watching you boys grow in to the fine men you've become."

Michael smiled sadly, and then joined his father in the toast, but Lucas refused to move. Michael detested him for acting so childish.

"What's the matter, Lucas?" Michael asked him, irritation in his voice.

Lucas didn't look at them. "We do this every year," he mumbled. "What's the point?" And then his green eyes, flashing with emotion, finally locked on to their father's. "She's dead. She's gone. Is this supposed to make you feel better about her death?"

"Lucas…" Taylor started, his frown deepening.

"Lucas, don't be like this," Michael said, disappointment.

Lucas sat back again, grasping the cup in his hand, and then his cold eyes locked with his father's. He glared at him. "What? Don't look at me like that." There it was. That look. The blame. Michael could see Lucas start to lose it. "I said don't!" he yelled, leaping to his feet, watching angrily, his father's despondent gaze.

"Lucas, sit," Michael warned. "Calm down."

Lucas was livid. But Michael could tell he was also close to tears, and so that was his queue to leave. He stormed off, leaving his brother and his father to recover from the outburst.

"I'll talk to him," Taylor sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

"No, I'll go after him." Michael got to his feet slowly. "He's just upset. He didn't mean it."

Taylor nodded at him, his gaze dropping back down to the table.

Michael smiled at him sympathetically, and then he set off to find Lucas.

It was no surprise where he had gone.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, bursting through the doors of the lab, his arms waving angrily in the air. "What is _wrong _with you?"

"So many things, brother," Lucas retorted, his eyes wild. He was suddenly very animated, full of energy.

"Why are you acting like this? On the anniversary of mom's death, of all days!"

He was thrown suddenly, when Lucas kicked the edge of the desk, causing it to dislodge from the ground and jump momentarily in to the air, sheets of paper and equipment flying everywhere. Michael held his breath for a brief moment and waited for Lucas to calm down.

That was when he saw it all; the model of the portal, the drawings, the sketches, the calculations. He wasn't as intelligent as his brother, but even he recognised what they meant.

"What is this?" he interrogated, gesticulating towards the model, towards the papers, already fearing the answer.

"My work," Lucas answered smugly, gathering up the research that he had kicked to the floor.

Michael blinked. "You've figured out a way to reverse the portal, to make it work both ways," he said, disbelief in his voice.

"That's right," Lucas grinned darkly, clutching his research to his chest. "I've achieved the impossible. Well…_almost_."

Michael's anxious gaze met his brother's. "Does dad know you're working on this?"

Lucas scorned at this, placing his work back down on the desk. "No, and you can't tell him either."

"Why not?" Michael questioned. "What is this about?"

Lucas ignored him.

"Look, things don't have to be this way, Lucas." Desperation had weaved in to his voice. "You're not alone."

"_Yes_, I am," Lucas snapped, his teeth grinding together fiercely. "I will _always_ be alone."

"Don't be like that," Michael insisted. "You can still have a life; find a nice girl, settle down here, have a family…"

"Don't patronise me, brother," he seethed. "This isn't about that. This is about _him_. It's always been about him."

Michael's eyebrows furrowed. "Who? Dad? He hasn't done anything to you."

Lucas' dark eyes gleamed. He smiled bitterly. "Have you seen the way he looks at me? Not the way he looks at you, so proud; the perfect military son, following in his footsteps. I think he expected me to be more like you: the ideal son. I don't think he understands that just because we look like each other doesn't mean we have to act like each other."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucas. Dad loves you."

He chuckled, his gaze burning hatefully. "No. He loves _you_. He _adores_ you. Me? I think he'd rather I died instead of mom that day."

Michael felt like hitting him for even suggesting such a thing. He felt his throat closing up, the emotion swallowing him. He shook his head. "Don't say anything like that again," he threatened, his tone so serious that Lucas eyed him from over his shoulder, and merely nodded.

Michael turned to leave, lip curling, heart pulsing.

"I meant what I said, brother," Lucas' voice dripped in to his ears. "If you value our relationship at all, you won't tell our father about this."

Michael closed his eyes. He didn't respond. He left Lucas alone in his dungeon to continue with his work.

TBC.


	4. Chapter 4

Thick as Thieves chapter 4

Keeping secrets for Lucas had never been an issue before. Michael remembered a time when they used to tell each other everything. He and Lucas, sharing secrets, trusting each other. It was like second nature, and the bond only brought them closer as brothers. But this secret – this burden – was taking its toll on Michael and causing an even bigger rift between them.

Seeing either of his two remaining family members hadn't been easy for him. He felt torn. Lucas hadn't said anything about it since that day, but his cold gazes reminded Michael how he couldn't afford to betray him. The sight of his father only made him feel guilty, as if he were conspiring against him in some way. He had even tried to convince Lucas to tell Commander Taylor himself, to which Lucas always refused or made some comment that made Michael all the more uncomfortable.

"Don't you ever think about it?" he asked once, after Michael had confronted him again.

"Think about what?"

"Home."

"Lucas," Michael had replied, forcing a confused sort of smile. "This _is_ our home."

For an entire week he held his tongue, debating what to do, and then Taylor invited him for a ride OTG in the rover.

"I can't get over how beautiful it is here," Michael confessed as he leant out of the vehicle's window and turned his face towards the pleasant warmth of the sun. "I had almost forgotten what clouds looked like."

Taylor smiled at him from the driver's seat. "Feels like a dream, doesn't it? I'm glad you got the chance to see all of this. To be a part of it." Michael turned his head towards him, smiling cheerfully. "There's so much more to life here than there was back there," Taylor continued in a more contemplative manner. "That was no place to raise two young boys. I only wish we had discovered this place sooner."

"Hey, you did what you could, dad," Michael insisted. "And we turned out okay."

"I know, son," he smiled at him again before turning his attention back ahead of him, driving past the endless trees and bushes. "I'm just worried about your brother. Has he said anything to you?"

Michael felt his chest tighten. He cleared his throat. "No. Uh, why? You think he needs to talk to somebody?"

Taylor shook his head. "I'm sure he's fine. I'm just concerned; think he needs a break from his work."

Michael paused and looked out at the blue sky again, replaying the conversation between him and Lucas in his head over and over again:

_I meant what I said, brother. If you value our relationship at all, you won't tell our father about this._

He closed his eyes and tried to shut Lucas' voice out.

"Do you remember when you and Lucas were younger, and your mother and I took you out to the countryside?"

Michael's eyes snapped open again and he turned back towards his father, resting his arm on the door of the rover. "Oh yeah. I think so. The air was much clearer there, wasn't it? And we both wanted to climb that big tree and you wouldn't let us."

Taylor sighed. "But Lucas climbed it anyway. And of course, he fell and almost broke his neck."

"And mom had to cradle him like a baby until he stopped crying."

"You wouldn't stop laughing."

Michael sniggered at the memory, at the image of Lucas weeping so hysterically over his own foolish actions. "So much has changed," he added, smile gradually disappearing.

"You grew up," his father responded.

"Yeah."

He wanted to hold on to the memory for as long as possible, but it was already starting to blur in front of him. Lucas climbing up that withered old tree, holding his hand out for Michael to join him. Their father's angry voice in the background, telling them to get down, and their mother's blurred figure watching them, smiling.

"Dad…what if somebody wanted to make the portal that got us here go the other way? So hypothetically we could get back to the future?"

The rover lost speed. Taylor's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Why are you asking?"

Michael swallowed and shook his head. "Uh, just wondering."

"Well, it depends," his father answered, his tone suddenly very serious. "It depends on why anyone would want to go back _there_, if they're_ here_."

Michael breathed a sigh, thinking about Lucas again. Up high in that tree. Climbing higher despite his father's angry cries. And then his screams as he fell tumbling to the ground.

He had to tell him.

"Dad, there's something you should know…"

And then: chaos.

He was furious as he burst through the lab doors, shouting Lucas' name. Michael followed his father anxiously, his heart racing. Lucas wasn't there. He watched as Taylor examined the papers on the desk, picking them up in disbelief.

"You were right. He really is trying to make the portal go both ways."

Michael swallowed, unsure of what else to say, and then he heard Lucas come through the doors. He turned to face him, saw his brother's look of surprise when he noticed him standing there.

"Michael?" He looked passed him to see his father standing on the other side of the room, motionless, not even bothering to face him. "Dad?" And he realised what had happened. He looked at Michael, betrayal and anger in his expression. "You told him."

"I'm sorry, Lucas. I had to," Michael insisted, then the two jumped as they heard a loud bang. Their father had thrown the model portal to the floor, letting it smash on the ground. Then he went for the desk.

"Dad, no! Stop it! Stop!" Lucas yelled, leaping towards him, trying to pick up the scattered remains of his research.

But it was too late, and the brothers stood there in silence as they witnessed their father destroy over two years' worth of research. When it was over, Taylor turned around, breathing heavily, still fuming over the fact his children had been lying to him.

Michael feared what he was going to say, but Lucas beat him to it. The remains of his hard work still torn and battered on the floor, he faced them both, his lip curled, his green eyes narrowed resentfully. "I hate you. Both of you." And then he slunk off outside without caring to look back.

Michael held his head in his hands, exhaling, looking around at the mess.

"It had to be done," Taylor stated, straightening up. "He'll understand, with time."

"You've crushed him," Michael said quietly. "You know how hard he's been working on this."

"Lucas was invited to find a way for us to communicate with the future, not go back to it. We can't allow that."

Michael bit his lip, shaking his head. He feared what state Lucas would be in now.

"I'll talk to him," Taylor suggested, sighing.

"No. I don't think you should yet. Let me."

Michael found him leaning against the gates outside, shivering in the cold chill of the evening, his eyes gleaming distantly with hurt and fury. He didn't say anything when Michael leant on the barrier beside him.

"I'm sorry, Lucas. I did what I thought was best. I'm concerned about you. We both are."

"The only thing _he's_ concerned about is his precious Terra Nova," Lucas spat, grimacing again. "I will never forgive him for this." He stood up straight, facing his twin brother, glaring at him hatefully. "And as for you – you betrayed me, brother." He swallowed. "From now on, you mean nothing to me. _Nothing_. Understand me? We may look alike, but the connection ends there."

Michael almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Lucas…don't…I was just trying to help…"

"Don't talk to me," Lucas snapped, biting the inside of his cheek. "And don't bother trying to _help_ me again."

Michael stared at him despairingly, unsure of how to remedy the situation. But Lucas didn't want to hear any of it anyway.

"We're done," Lucas grumbled bitterly, his gaze piercing in to him like a knife, and then he left Michael alone in the shadows, speechless.

Seeing Lucas in that spikey old tree again, the memory fading, Michael felt his heart sink, and as his brother began to fall, he heard him screaming.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

Thick as Thieves, chapter 5

"Anything out there?"

"Nope."

"Keep checking, you never know."

Michael was on guard duty at the gates with Lieutenant Washington that evening. She stood opposite him, watching as he scanned the area outside and checked for any potential threats. Peering out at the jungle through binoculars, Michael gathered that everything still seemed in order. Then he froze.

"Wait. What's that?" he said suddenly, gripping the binoculars in his hands.

Wash tensed, glancing out at the wilderness, the only movement seeming to be the evening breeze blowing through the trees. "What? What is it?" she questioned, coming over.

"It's…oh, wait…yep. It's a leaf." Wash rolled her eyes at him. "You better get us some back up here, Li. It's an angry looking leaf."

She laughed and whacked him on the shoulder before wandering back to her post.

He pouted, nursing his wounded shoulder. "You don't know your own strength."

"Oh, I do actually," she said playfully. "I've gone against some tough characters in my time. I put 'em down easy."

"Oh really?" He smiled mischievously at her, straightening himself up. "Think you can take me?"

"Any time."

He laughed. "You wanna bet?"

"Sure."

"Ten terras says you won't even put me on the ground." He smirked at her, coming closer.

She thought for a moment, placing a finger on her lips. "How about thirty terras? Make it more interesting."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "You're sure of yourself."

"Because I know I can beat you," she winked, making him laugh harder. She grinned. "That's nice."

"What?

"Seeing you laugh. You have a nice smile."

"Good to know," he chuckled before releasing a sigh and gazing in to her shining eyes. "Yeah, feels good, you know, after what's been happening lately. Dad and I have been so concerned about Lucas."

"Let's not talk about Lucas. He's all you've been thinking about lately."

He frowned. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is. Everything's been about him. What about you? When's the last time you got any sleep?"

Michael shrugged. He supposed she was right. Lucas _had_ been on his mind a lot recently, especially for the past couple of days. His brother remained true to his word and hadn't said a single thing to them since the incident. In fact, he had avoided them altogether and hardly spent any time at all in the house. He couldn't even be found in the lab which had since been tidied so that any reminder of the previous night had been removed. But Michael still remembered it all vividly, and it was clear Lucas still did too.

"Lucas is selfish," Wash stated. "Accept that. He's always been the selfish one, even when you were kids."

"How would you know that?"

"Your dad used to tell me stories about you," she confessed. "You always came off as the better one, by the way."

He rolled his eyes, smiling. "Don't say that."

"It's true. You know it's true."

They were interrupted by footsteps dragging along beside them and their heads turned to the intruder.

"Speak of the devil," Wash murmured as she eyed Lucas emerging from the shadows.

"Lucas?" questioned Michael, stepping away from the Lieutenant.

"Hello, brother," he greeted, a forced smile emerging on his lips. "I need to get through, if you don't mind."

Michael's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, I see. You don't talk to me for two days but as soon as you want something, all of a sudden I'm your brother again."

"Look this doesn't need to be a big thing," Lucas sighed, running a hand across his pale face. "I just need to get by. Can you let me do that?"

"Afraid not, _brother_. No one leaves. It's dangerous out there. Why do you want to go out there anyway?"

"I thought the fresh air would do me good," he said dryly.

"You heard what he said, Lucas," Wash interrupted. "No one leaves. Go home."

Lucas glared at her, green eyes blazing. His jaw stiffened. "Fine." His gaze met Michael's again. "As you wish." Then he turned and shuffled back in to the darkness where he came from.

"What does he want to go outside the gates for?" Wash queried, her eyes still narrowed in the direction Lucas had trailed off to.

Michael bit his lip, considering the same thing. "I don't know. I'm gonna follow him. Will you be okay here?"

Wash nodded. "Just be careful."

"I'll be fine," he smiled at her, knowing there were too many eyes around to kiss her goodbye, despite how much he wanted to. "Catch up with you later."

Michael had followed his brother half-way around Terra Nova before he noticed him come to a stop beside the fence. He hid behind one of the colonist's houses as Lucas took one last look around, and then began crawling underneath. Michael watched him suspiciously from his hiding place, witnessing Lucas emerge on the other side.

"Michael?"

His heart jumped, and then he turned around suddenly to see a figure behind him. "Shh!" he told them before realising it was his father standing there, thick brows furrowed with concern and confusion. "Dad? What are you doing here?" he whispered.

"I noticed the security cameras were out in this area. What's going on?"

"It's Lucas," Michael continued in a hushed tone. "He's sneaking out."

His father peered round the building to see his other son skulk off in to the jungle. A sinister frown took over his features. "Okay. Let's go after him."

They found Lucas some time later. By then the wind had picked up, the breeze thundering passed their ears. They saw Lucas lurking in the shadows, waiting. Taylor told Michael to stay back while he approached his younger son, his expression grave and serious.

"Lucas," he yelled over the loud roar of the weather, the plants and trees swaying violently around them. "What are you doing out here, son?"

Michael watched from a safe distance as Lucas turned to look at them both, his eyes dark, his sadistic grin widening. "Oh, look," he announced. "The whole clan is here. Dear old dad and my loving twin brother." His voice oozed with a sickly sarcasm. "United in their allegiance against me. How considerate of you to come after me."

Michael rolled his eyes, unable to keep quiet any longer. "For crying out loud, Lucas! What are you doing out here? It's not safe to be out here alone."

"Oh, I'm not alone," he insisted. "I'm waiting for a friend."

And then, before either of them could question Lucas any further, a blue light flashed in front of them, blinding them. The two shielded their eyes as the portal appeared in front of them, the bright light eventually dissolving in to the darkness again, and when they looked back up, they weren't the only ones standing there.

An older man in uniform stood where the portal had been, a solemn frown on his face. Michael didn't recognise him, but his father seemed to, and he addressed him as General Phillbrick.

"What's going on?" Michael demanded, panicked. "What is this?"

"Consider it a palace coup," spat Lucas, turning away from them.

Then as General Phillbrick threatened to take over command of Terra Nova, Michael gathered that it was exactly that. But his father's refusal to give in made him proud. As the two older men argued, all he could think about was how much Lucas must detest their father, to be reduced to such a despicable act of betrayal. He watched him from a distance, seeing a gleam of satisfaction in his tragic eyes, his posture hunched, and his body tensed, loathing in his expression. He was almost unrecognisable.

Perhaps Lucas had been right; they were no longer brothers after all.

"There's bigger plans involved here, son. Best you just stand down graciously," he heard the General's voice break in, and when Taylor refused again, Phillbrick pulled out a gun and prepared to shoot.

Michael didn't wait to think. Instinct kicked in immediately. He leapt for Phillbrick before he had a chance to shoot his father, pushing him to the ground, trying to knock the gun out of his hand. Lucas grabbed hold of his brother, snarling, trying to pull him off, when Taylor collided in to him, shoving him against the tree trunk.

And the next bit happened too fast for Michael to remember properly. He remembered the loud bang, the sudden cry, and then the low thud as Phillbrick released him and let his own body thump to the floor, lifeless.

Michael sat back, the gun in his hand, realising what he had done. He glanced over at Lucas and their father, his green eyes wide with horror, and saw that they were just as shocked as he was. Michael retreated from the body, standing back, dropping the gun to the floor. "I killed him," he murmured, distress in his voice.

He felt his father approach and examine the body, trying to find a pulse that was no longer there. "You had to," he told him solemnly. "You had no choice."

Despite his father's intentions, this did nothing to ease Michael's conscience. The fact was that he had killed somebody, and he could never take it back. He brought his hands up to his face, heart thumping hard inside him as he struggled to process it all. He hadn't noticed Lucas pick up the discarded gun and aim right for them, the weapon rattling nervously in his hand. He turned uneasily to the sight of his brother holding the gun, his hand trembling, breaths short and rapid, teeth bearing like some savage animal.

"Lucas," he croaked, his throat running dry. "What are you doing?"

Lucas glared at him and then focused the gun on their father. Taylor stood rooted to the ground, his sinister frown full of disappointment.

"Stop this," Michael pleaded, taking a step towards him. The gun shook harder in his brother's palms, either with rage or with fear, he wasn't sure. Michael couldn't tell anymore what his brother was thinking. But his eyes were so sharp with resentment, his lips curving in a disgusted frown, that the mere sight of him instilled Michael with fear. Fear of what his brother was truly capable of.

But however quick Lucas was, their father was even quicker. He had knocked the gun out of Lucas' hand and pinned him against the tree before Michael had even blinked. Then he flinched as his father struck Lucas and forced him to the ground. He knew in some way he deserved it, but when Taylor had the gun pointed at him, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Dad," he almost yelled, his expression a mixture of shock and anguish at his father's actions. But Taylor didn't put the gun down. He kept it raised straight to his boy's head.

"Ugh, go ahead. Kill me," Lucas sneered, as if the satisfaction of Taylor being forced to kill his own son was enough for him to go happily to his grave.

Hearing that scarred Michael more than any bullet ever could, and it was only then he finally understood the extent of his brother's mental anguish. How little he valued his own life, as well as his family members' lives, disturbed and devastated him to the point where he could feel his own heart clench inside his chest. He could no longer be strong. Because all he could see when he looked at Lucas was that small little boy who always had his head stuck in books or who cried like a baby when he fell out of that tree. And his own father, aiming that gun at him like he was some common crook; the enemy. A surreal pain settled in. He couldn't let this go on.

"Lucas," he whispered, heartbroken, and Lucas returned with a cold stare that implied he couldn't care less about his brother's sorrow.

Taylor put down the gun. "You're my son," he said ruefully, tearing his gaze away from him. "I won't do it." Michael breathed a small sigh of relief. But Lucas looked agonisingly disappointed, pouting like a child, eyes once again filled with exasperated anger and resentment. "You're a traitor. There's no place in Terra Nova for you."

Michael stepped closer, "Dad –"

"I never want to see you again," he finished, turning away from Lucas who had already begun to stagger away.

"Oh, you'll see me again, Commander," he responded, voice full of contempt as he wiped the blood from his face. "You both will. Let's hope I show you the same kindness you showed me."

"Lucas, wait." Michael followed him, stopping abruptly as Lucas spun around and their eyes met. For once he seemed to really look at him, take him in, examine him. Then he smiled sorrowfully and began to disappear again.

"Sorry it had to happen like this, brother," he heard Lucas say as he vanished in to the bushes.

And actually, Michael believed that he meant it.

TBC

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just leaving a little note here to say how grateful I am to everyone reading and reviewing since some people that commented were signed in as guests and I couldn't reply :P So glad you're reading and enjoying and loving Michael as much as I do :D Hope you liked this chapter! I am not going to do a full jump to 'real-time' just yet but will most likely skip a couple years each chapter until we get up to the time line in the show :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you again, lovely people, for all your reviews. Like I mentioned before, I'm thrilled you are enjoying this story and I hope you will continue to enjoy it! I definitely plan to update as much as I can! This chapter was so long it had to be split in to two…I will probably upload the second half straight after this one, it depends :P**

Thick as Thieves, chapter 6

"Look alive, Corporal," Wash commanded teasingly as Michael trailed behind her, struggling to keep up.

Michael fought through the foliage, batting plants and trees out of his face as he followed Washington through the forest. "I'm right behind you, Lieutenant. Don't worry about me."

"If the third pilgrimage arrive and we're not there, I'm blaming you," she told him, grinning.

"We don't even know they're going to be there," he protested, untangling his leg from a vine that had caught hold of him. "They could be anywhere within three klicks, right?"

Wash rolled her eyes and pulled out a knife, cutting Michael free. "Yeah, and if they arrive in this direction we have to be ready for them. Now come on."

He sighed, brushing off his armour before following her again. He didn't say a lot after that. Wash glanced at him as they walked and noticed him frowning.

"Hey," she said gently. "You okay?"

He raised his head to look at her. "Mm? Oh. Yeah, fine."

"I know you haven't really been yourself since Lucas went missing."

"I don't wanna talk about it, Li."

"You need to stop calling me that."

"It's for Alicia. It's cute."

"I'm _not_ cute."

He smiled at her. "I think you're cute."

Wash rolled her eyes at the response. "Yeah, yeah. See if you still think that once I kick your ass."

"Oh, you mean the bet is still on?" he smirked, walking closer to her. "Because I'm ready for whatever you've got, Lieutenant."

"We'll see."

He paused, hearing the sound of rushing water in the distance. "You hear that?"

She hardly turned her head, becoming annoyed by the persistent interruptions. "It's just the falls. Come on." But he was already heading off in to the other direction, stumbling and tripping on his way. "Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Taking a five minute break. We've been walking for ages!"

"Michael, we don't have time," she snapped, urgency in her voice. "Don't make me give you an order."

He sighed and turned to face her, smiling rebelliously. "My feet hurt," he said defiantly. "I'm going for a swim. You're welcome to join me, Lieutenant."

She watched with disbelief as he turned away from her and headed towards Snakehead Falls. She wasn't used to people ignoring her, and whilst Michael was mischievous in his ways, he was usually a good soldier who followed orders without any fuss. She couldn't help thinking his sudden rebellious behaviour was all down to Lucas. Releasing a sigh, she followed him through the bushes and found him stripping off his uniform at the bottom of the waterfall.

"Sure you don't want to join me?" he asked flirtatiously, tugging off his shirt to reveal his toned chest underneath. She crossed her arms, frowning impatiently. "Suit yourself," he shrugged as he rolled up the ends of his trousers and prepared to jump in to the water.

She raised her eyebrows as he dove in headfirst, completely ignoring her disproval. The water was pleasantly cool and soothing against his skin, and he felt refreshed as he bobbed up to the surface, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. Wash heard him cheering and splashing around like an infant, swimming up and down as if he hadn't swum for ages. She watched the drops glisten on his body, the sunshine illuminating him in the water, the rippling waves crashing against his muscles. She'd be lying if she said there wasn't some small part of her that wanted to join him.

"Alright," she barked. "You've had your fun. Now come on, there's work to do."

He swam towards her. "Not until you've joined me."

"I'm not joining you. Now get out. Let's go."

"Alicia, life is short. You need to learn to have fun once in a while."

She shook her head. "Where is this coming from? You've been acting strange ever since Lucas disappeared. Did something happen with you two?"

Michael thought back to that night again, the general's cold body lying lifeless on the ground, his brother fleeing in to the jungle, his father grabbing him by the shoulders, telling him they need to get rid of the body.

He fell quiet and pulled himself out of the water, his body soaked and shimmering. "It's just…one day everything could just end, you know? Your life could be over, just like that. This place is all about living, isn't it? I feel like I need to live a little more."

She raised an eyebrow, sympathising with him. Then she sighed and handed him back his uniform. "Come on. Work needs to be done. You can do plenty of living afterwards."

He followed her downstream, half walking, half stumbling as he pulled on his clothes at the same time, still dripping wet. He was struggling with his right shoe when his other foot hit something and he fell hard to the ground, crying out with the shock.

Wash spun around, alarmed, and then found herself laughing at the sight of Michael collapsed on the floor. "Watch your step, Corporal Taylor," she mocked, chuckling before holding her hand out to help him up. He took it after a moment of hesitation and once he was back on his feet he had the chance to examine what he had tripped over.

"It's a log. Someone had a camp fire here."

Wash examined it more closely, bending down to get a better look. "Seems like someone spent the night here," she explained, glancing up at Michael whose attention already seemed to be elsewhere. "What's wrong?" She watched as he drifted back over to the river, noticing some writing scrawled on to the rocks. "What the hell?" She picked herself up and stood behind Michael, inspecting the peculiar symbols. She couldn't make heads or tails of it. "What is it?"

"I recognise them," Michael mumbled under his breath, seeing his brother in his mind again, slinking off in to the jungle. So this is how he had been spending his months alone. "They're Lucas' calculations."

"What do you mean? Why would he do this?"

"I don't know." He turned to look at her. "We need to tell my father about this."

Their heads snapped at a sudden howl in the distance and they both pulled out their weapons on instinct. Michael tried to ignore the rapid increase in his heart beat as the screeches seemed to echo all around them.

"Sounds like a Nykoraptor," Wash announced, her eyes scanning the area around them. "Stay close."

The two remained silent as they neared the ear-piercing sounds, their weapons poised, ready for attack. In all his time at Terra Nova, Michael hadn't yet come face to face with one of the dangerous beasts that roamed the jungle outside the gates. He had done his training, of course, and with the help of his Lieutenant he was prepared for such an attack, but in real life it didn't make the situation any less terrifying. He tried to think what his father would do, and tried desperately not to let his fear show on the surface. The last thing he wanted was Wash thinking he was a coward.

"Over there," she whispered to him, indicating towards some moving trees. "Get ready."

Michael held his breath, watching the trees shake violently. He heard the overwhelming howl and then felt complete terror as the large creature tore through the foliage and thundered towards them.

"NOW!" screamed the Lieutenant, firing her sonic at the beast. Michael shot too and it shrieked with pain. It slowed dramatically, but it didn't stop. The two leapt back, continuing to fire. Michael thought they had won as it suddenly turned to retreat, but he hadn't anticipated its tail to fling in to him, knocking him back several metres, its blade slicing in to his flesh as he hit the ground and cried out in agony.

"Michael!" Wash yelled.

He glanced down at the wound across his chest, the blood seeping out through the tear in his uniform. He winced, beginning to regret ever taking off his armour, and then he looked up weakly to see Wash approaching him, the dinosaur leering over her. "Alicia!"

She whipped back around to face the monster, its sharp teeth biting at her, its eyes ablaze with fury. When she raised her weapon again, it merely caught the pistol in its jaws and knocked the Lieutenant against a tree, causing her to black out.

Michael felt a searing panic as the Nykoraptor leant over her, bearing its teeth, snarling at her. He crawled for his gun a few feet away, his sore flesh burning and bubbling with pain. He grabbed the pistol and shot at the beast with all the energy he had left, shouting and swearing at it, willing it to leave. It seemed to work, as the creature screamed and howled and backed away. Michael watched with relief as it limped off in to the wilderness, leaving them alone once again. His tender flesh deeply ached as he dropped back to the floor, feeling an awful headache settle in, and then his eyes began to blur as he observed the serene sky above, the clouds floating over him. For some reason he thought of Lucas again, his funny drawings on the rocks beside him, and then he remembered how they used to draw their names on the road outside their house, when they were really young, before the air got really bad. Their names would remain etched in to the concrete until the cruel weather distorted the writing and washed it away forever.

He smiled at the memory, feeling his eyes start to close, and then the darkness swallowed him.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

"Michael?"

He blinked, realising Wash was standing over him, her beautiful face upside-down and full of concern. She gently helped him sit up and he realised he had bandages around his torso, covering the gash across his chest. The stabbing sensation still remained, as if the blade was still lodged in his flesh, and he grimaced at the pain as she knelt down in front of him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed, rubbing his sore head. "How about you?" He touched her face, noticing the cut on her cheek, but she flinched and batted him away.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "We must have been out for a little while."

"We were?" He looked around him, confused, and then looked back down to the dressing on his wound. "Did you do this?"

"No. I only just woke up."

"My weapon's missing."

She wrinkled her nose, looking around for hers too. "Somebody bandaged you up, took our weapons, and then just left us?"

Michael looked back towards the symbols by the river, frowning. He had an idea who might have done this, but he wasn't sure how he felt about it. If it _had_ been Lucas who bandaged him up, maybe he did still have an ounce of compassion left in that clouded head of his, but he wasn't sure if he trusted his brother with weapons. At least if he ever came across any danger like they had today, he would be protected. Witnessing what that Nykoraptor was capable of gave him chills. He feared the day they'd be on patrol and find a mangled body in the bushes belonging to his brother. He feared that more than the fear of not knowing, of lying in bed night after night, wondering where Lucas was sleeping and if he was alright.

"Come on," said Wash, helping him to his feet. "Let's get you back to the rover."

* * *

><p>Commander Taylor wasn't thrilled to hear the news about their unfortunate discovery at Snakehead Falls, but he was relieved to see that Michael was still in one piece. He sat at his desk, frowning, his tired eyes meeting Michael's as he listened intently to what had happened.<p>

"The whole area must be made off limits from now on," he said sternly, sitting up in his chair after Michael had finished. "No one steps foot in that place, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Michael nodded. "Understood."

His father got to his feet, eyeing Wash in the background. "Neither of you can ever tell anyone about this."

"Of course," she responded. "We won't."

"Good."

Michael cleared his throat, meeting his father's gaze again, but this time not as a soldier, but as a concerned son who was worried about the safety of his brother. "Dad…I want you to consider bringing Lucas back to Terra Nova."

Taylor's jaw stiffened, his eyes narrowing at him. Michael could see his hesitance, the way his frown deepened and how his body tensed. The undetermined silence was excruciating. Then he watched as his father sighed and turned to Lieutenant Washington. "Could you give us a moment, Wash?"

She nodded and left them be, glancing back at Michael uneasily. She smiled weakly at him and then left the two alone together. He watched her go, part of him wishing she would come back and stand by his side, the other part relieved she wasn't going to be present for this.

Commander Taylor approached his son, his cold expression speaking for him. "I know you're concerned about him but he made his choice, Michael."

"He was confused," he insisted. "He needs help. It's dangerous out there, he could get hurt!"

"I can't help that now, son. He's a traitor. He doesn't belong here, and you need to stop making excuses for him."

"He pretty much saved my life today."

"Or so you think."

Michael sighed, giving in. His gaze sunk down to his boots, noticing there were still a few drops of dried blood on them. He closed his eyes, the image of Lucas alone in the jungle, freezing, starving played in his mind. "I just…didn't want to lose him too."

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him; the only family he had left. "I know. But this is the way things are now."

He smiled sadly, acceptingly, and then the reassurance of his father's hand on his shoulder slipped away and he began to slowly wander back towards the door.

"Michael, hang on a second. I meant to ask you something."

He stopped and raised his head curiously. "What?"

Taylor looked up from his desk, pausing a moment as his eyes met with his son's, his face suddenly very suspicious. "Is something going on between you and Wash?"

Michael froze. _He knew_. How? He suddenly felt exposed, as if his father was able to read his mind and discover all the secrets he had never divulged. He cleared his throat nervously, acting confused and startled by the accusation. "What do you mean?"

He softened a little bit, leaning against the desk again as if trying to appear less threatening. "Well, you seem to be spending a lot of time together lately and she…doesn't seem as _focused_."

Michael shook his head innocently, shrugging. "I hadn't noticed," he replied, forcing an anxious smile, feeling his wounds start to burn underneath the bandages.

"I was just starting to get concerned…"

"Nothing's going on, dad."

He held his breath as he watched his father look away, felt the relief flood him when he saw him nod acceptingly. "Okay. Thank you for being honest with me." He smiled appreciatively at him. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah. See you."

As he left the command centre, he felt his body relax again, his heart rate slowing. _Honest_. He scorned at the word. He was far from it. He had rarely lied to his father, not even as a child, and when he did he always came clean eventually, as the incident with Lucas had already demonstrated. But this time he had to lie. Of course it went against his better judgement but this time he needed to. For Alicia.

He saw her underneath the staircase, the same spot where he had impulsively grabbed and kissed her in the early stages of their relationship. He smiled reassuringly at her, but she seemed upset.

"I heard everything," she confessed with a solemn frown. "That was too close."

"He believed me when I said there was nothing going on," he told her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We've nothing to worry about. He's not going to find out."

"He suspects something."

"Trust me."

"Michael…"

"Come on, I heard Boylan's new bar is opening tonight, just in time for Terra Nova's new residents. I'll take you for a drink."

She shook him off, avoiding his gaze. "I can't."

"Okay, some other night then."

"No, I mean I can't do this."

His smile faded. "Do what?"

"Us. It's too much." She tried to avoid his heartbroken gaze. "Look, we knew this would never work. I'm your superior officer. What would people think?"

"I don't care what people think."

"Well, I do. I'm older than you, I should know better. They're going to think I took advantage of you, that I'm using you because you're the Commander's son."

"That's ridiculous," he spat.

"Your father's right. I haven't been focused. Earlier in the woods when that Nykoraptor attacked, I got _scared_. I let my guard down. I nearly got us killed."

"I was scared too."

She gazed at him sadly. "If it had been anyone else, I would have handled it, no problem. But when that thing hurt you, and I saw you bleeding, I wasn't thinking about the Nykoraptor. I was scared for you, and I just kept thinking I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. And I let that thing get close to me. It was unprofessional. Don't you understand? I can't have feelings like that for one of my team. I can't afford to get distracted like that. I need my head in the game."

He shook his head, his jade green eyes starting to blur. "Alicia, please don't do this. I love you."

She shut her eyes tightly. "No you don't. You think you do, but you don't."

Michael didn't say anything. He swallowed again, fighting back the tears, not wanting her to see him cry.

"You're still so young and you have so much ahead of you. You don't want me messing that up."

"I wish people would stop saying I'm so young. I'm not stupid – I know what I want."

She smiled sadly at him, brushing his cheek with her fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling, breathing shakily against her touch. "I'm sorry, Michael."

He didn't open his eyes again until she had walked away, and then he let a single tear fall, thinking of the first time he laid eyes on her, the first time he fell in love. He bowed his head, scrubbing at his moist eyes, wishing for this awful day to be over. And then he saw his father peering out from the command centre, watching him. He wondered how much he had seen, and then he decided he didn't care as he scowled and turned away, wishing for it to be several months ago when he still had a supportive brother and a beautiful girlfriend by his side.

Perhaps this new world wasn't going to give him the happiness he had been promised after all.

**TBC**

**A/N: I know, sorry for all the angst! I promise to make it up to you next chapter! Skye should hopefully be checking in soon too haha.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this has taken a while to update. Most of this chapter has actually been written for a while but I have been slow updating because of a sad loss in the family. I'm hoping after this week things will be back to normal though. Also, I hadn't realised I would spend so long in the flashback stages with this, but I am having too much fun exploring Michael's character so there will probably be a few more chapters like this until the show's 'present' timeline. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Thick as Thieves chapter 8

It would all be over soon.

Sure, he had to start again from square one, but it would all come together eventually. All these nights alone in the jungle, freezing to death, having to hunt for food with his own bare hands - no weapons, no means of survival - it would all be worth it once he found the answer, once he laid eyes on the man who put him here and watched with relish as he realised that this had all been futile, that he'd been wasting his time building a fantasy; a dream. He should have learnt by now that there wasn't much good in the world anymore, past or present. There was no hope for the human race. Never was. You might as well take what you can and make the most of it. Die with a little dignity, knowing you're leaving this earth having made your mark.

That's what Lucas planned on doing. He didn't really care who got in his way, his brother included. Michael was an idiot for remaining loyal to that arrogant old fool. Michael, always daddy's perfect little boy, always wanting to make him proud. Sometimes it made him sick. Had he forgotten what he let happen to their mother in Somalia? How their 'heroic' father had just given up and left her there to die? He supposed Michael would never understand. He wasn't the one their father regretted saving, he wasn't the one being blamed for their mother's brutal death. He detested the Commander for making him feel like this, for making him feel like it was his fault for so long...

He would have killed him that night if he hadn't been such a coward. In his line of work, he'd never had the opportunity to learn how to use a gun, and so he let his fear cripple him, allowed his father to defeat him. Next time, he told himself, handling the weapon he'd stolen from Michael, next time he wouldn't hesitate. He wouldn't rest until his father paid for everything he'd done, and if his_real_son decided to get in the way then Lucas would just have to deal with him too. He didn't particularly want his brother to die, but he would hurt him if he had to. If it meant getting what he wanted. But if he had to tell the truth, he still had the smallest slither of hope for his brother. As if some day, he would realise what kind of a man he was idolising and join Lucas in his revolt against him. Then they could be brothers again, perhaps. That's why he bandaged him up that day in the jungle. He saw him lying there in a pool of his own blood, losing consciousness. It was pitiable. If he hadn't bled to death he guaranteed a Carno would have caught his scent and devoured him. He believed Michael had earned a more dignified death than that.

At least he had their weapons. Now he could catch his food without having to get too close to his prey, without having to put his life in danger just for a decent meal. He sank in to his coat, shielding himself from the cold of the evening. He still didn't know how to survive out here, but he'd been doing pretty well so far. He remembered snippets that his father had tried to teach him and Michael long ago about surviving out in the wild, but that hardly helped him much now, especially as he hadn't been paying much attention at the time. He wasn't even sure the great Commander cared if he was still alive or not. He doubted it, but either way he had got what he wanted. Now he had his perfect son to himself; he could watch him grow in to the man he always wanted him to be - the perfect little vision of himself - whilst Lucas rotted out here alone, slowly losing his mind, growing colder and bitterer with each passing moment.

Well, it would all be over soon. And then he'd have the last laugh. Maybe then everything could finally be put to rest. Maybe then he'd be able to have a decent night's sleep without seeing his mother's beaten face in his dreams, hearing her blood-curdling cries in his ears. He hoped his father had seen the symbols he left down at the falls. He hoped it made him realise what he had lost, and what he was going to lose. He hoped it reminded him how he had failed.

Lucas put the gun down on the ground, staring miserably at the fire. He tried to think how things used to be, when he thought the world of his father, when he was best friends with his brother. But he couldn't. It all felt so alien to him now. Sometimes he tried to remember a time when he wasn't the angry, bitter young man he was today. But they were only memories after all. Memories of another life he could never get back. Just another thing to blame his father for. He blamed his father for everything.

He wondered what his mother would say if she were still alive. He'd close his eyes and wish more than anything that she was here with him, telling him that everything was going to be okay, that _he_was going to be okay. He'd open them again to nothing. Nobody. Just him sitting alone in the darkness, grieving, mourning, with only his unfinished calculations and hateful plots of revenge to comfort him.

Except this time he wasn't alone.

Before he could realise what was happening, a loud growl sounded behind him and a set of sharp teeth clamped violently around his neck, forcing him face down on to the ground. He could feel each fang-like tooth rip in to his flesh, sinking deeper, tearing through the skin. He screamed loudly, his face pressed in to the mud, feeling the hot embers of the fire beside him, burning his face as the beast tore in to him, its breath like hot tar as it left fresh strips of blood across his neck. His voice rang throughout the jungle, his throat searing, his wounds smouldering from the creature's agonising bite. His hand tremored violently as he reached for the gun and shot furiously.

* * *

><p>Michael's eyes snapped open. He sat up in bed, breaths heavy, realising his body was moist with sweat. He could feel himself trembling, his skin burning. He pushed the covers off of him, swinging his legs around to the edge of the bed, trying to catch his breath, waiting for the cool air to give him some relief.<p>

"Are you okay?"

He was suddenly aware of a warm body lying next to him, reassuring him, a slim hand reaching out to touch him. He turned to face her, forming a small smile at the sight of Alicia Washington's comforting gaze. He finally felt his heart rate slowing, his temperature returning to normal. "I'm fine," he croaked, wiping his forehead with his arm. "Just a bad dream."

"Man up," she teased, pulling him closer for an embrace. "Dreams can't hurt you."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he laughed, half-meaning it as she rested her head on his bare chest. He held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his, her silky hair draped over his torso. He could sense her soft breathing, calming him, making him forget the horrors he'd witnessed in his nightmare. "I love you," he whispered gently in to her ear. She glanced up at him, surprised. "I don't care if you don't say it back."

"Michael," she frowned. "I thought we were agreed. This was a one-time thing."

"Doesn't mean I feel any different."

"I knew I shouldn't have gone to Boylan's with you last night," she moaned, sitting up and holding the covers to her chest. "I was hardly thinking straight as it was."

He only laughed at her. "Don't blame alcohol, Li. We both know you couldn't resist me."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up. And get dressed. We need to go. Fifth pilgrimage arrive soon."

He pouted at her when she jumped out of bed to grab her clothes. "You'll change your mind eventually. You miss me."

She threw his uniform at him. "Get out my house," she said, trying to hide her smile.

* * *

><p>After he was dressed and ready for duty, Michael's thoughts drifted back to his nightmare. He couldn't explain it but he felt as though Lucas had been in it. He could have sworn that he was screaming, that he was in some kind of danger. He couldn't shake that feeling, that sense that something bad had happened to him. It reminded him how, as children, the two used to joke about reading each other's minds, about sharing a telepathic connection that only they as twins could have had. He never really took it seriously until now.<p>

Outside, as he walked towards the gates, he saw his father outside the command centre talking to a group of soldiers, being his usual authoritative self. He wasn't surprised. Today was a busy day after all and the Commander was always adamant that everything went smoothly whenever a new pilgrimage was due to arrive. The group were, thankfully, just beginning to disperse when he approached.

"Dad," he began, than he caught himself. "Uh, Commander Taylor. Can I talk to you?"

"Go ahead," he replied.

"I would like to request a search mission for today. I can go alone, just for a few hours until I…"

"Hold on. I need you to escort the fifth pilgrimage, Michael. What the hell do you wanna go on a search mission for?"

Michael cleared his throat awkwardly, then saw the look of realisation in his father's eyes.

"This is about Lucas, isn't it?"

"I can't explain it, dad, but I just know he's in trouble."

"I exiled him, Michael," he snapped. "He doesn't get to come back. Ever."

"But…"

"That's the end of it. I don't want you to mention it again."

Michael frowned. He wanted to ask how he could ever be okay with never seeing Lucas again. Even after everything he had done, he was still his son; his own flesh and blood. Besides, it had been a long time since that night. Perhaps Lucas' time in the jungle had caused him to think differently, that is, if he was still in one piece. He noted the anger in his father's features and nodded acceptingly, his frown even slipping in to a scowl.

"Now just concentrate on bringing those people back here safe and sound, you gottit?"

"Yes, Commander," he mumbled, backing away to join Lieutenant Washington by the gates, and for the first time in his life, he was beginning to feel what it was like to actually resent his father a little bit.

* * *

><p>The arrival of the fifth pilgrimage went as smoothly as anticipated, especially now they had the Portal Terminus to make sure they knew exactly where to collect the new arrivals. They were expecting some new military personnel and also a scientist to finally replace Lucas. Not that anyone <em>could<em> actually replace him. Michael was aware that when his brother turned against them, they had lost a brilliant physicist as well as a beloved family member, but Taylor seemed more intent on moving on by now, on putting the past behind them and doing what was best for Terra Nova, and that meant bringing in new people to do the job that Lucas couldn't. So Michael went along with it for his father's sake. Of course he still cared for Terra Nova, but he wasn't as willing to forget the past as Taylor was, and he would always worry about Lucas, no matter what he did.

As he was preparing to escort the fifth pilgrimage back to the colony, he noticed a young girl crouched beside a tree, struggling to breathe. She couldn't have been more than thirteen. He saw the fear light up in her blue eyes, the tears rolling down her freckled cheeks. He laid down his weapon and crouched in front of her.

"Hey, it's okay," he told her reassuringly. "Your body's just not used to the air here. Just calm down, breathe slowly through your nose. Like this."

She stared at him as he then began to take deep, steady breaths. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._ And then he smiled at her as she imitated his breathing and gradually began to calm down.

"That's it," he grinned, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Just breathe, you'll get used to it." She continued to stare at him with those big blue eyes, her curly hair sticking to her moist cheeks as she swiped at her tears. "How did you end up here by yourself anyway? Where are your parents?"

She shrugged, sniffing as she wiped her eyes again. "I just wanted to explore," she admitted, frowning.

"Well, who wouldn't?" Michael asked, looking around him. "This place is beautiful"

"Is it really everything they're saying it is?" she asked hopefully.

"I'll let you in to a little secret," he said, beckoning her closer and the girl leaned forward curiously. "It's so much better."

She smiled sweetly. "I'm Skye."

"Skye," he repeated. "That's a pretty name you have, Skye. I'm Michael."

"I like the name Michael."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he laughed.

"Skye? There you are!" Michael turned to see a woman bounding towards them, grabbing Skye in her arms. "Don't scare me like that again, Bucket. Your father and I turned around and you were gone. Can you imagine how scared we were?"

"It's okay," Michael spoke up awkwardly, getting to his feet. "I took care of her."

She turned to look at him. "Thank you," she smiled appreciatively, then she paused, recognising him. "Aren't you Commander Taylor's son?"

"His name is Michael," Skye told her.

"Uh, yeah. Michael Taylor," he said bashfully. "Nice to meet you Mrs-?"

"Tate," she replied, her warm smile emerging again. "My husband's a Corporal under your father. I'm afraid he's where this one gets her adventurous side from," she said, indicating to her daughter who was blushing furiously. "I think she likes you."

He laughed. "Well, I like her too," he replied, glancing back at Skye. "I think she'll settle in fine at Terra Nova." He smiled at her again. "How about you walk with me at the front and you can ask me anything you want?"

"I'd like that," Skye replied, her features brightening, and then she took Michael's hand eagerly when he held it out for her.

He hadn't anticipated just how inquisitive Skye Tate was, however, as she asked him question after question, barely taking a breath before she moved on to the next one.

He noticed Alicia come up behind him, sniggering. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're just jealous of all the attention she's giving me," he muttered over to her.

"That must be it," she said sarcastically, laughing at him again.

"Who's that?" Skye questioned. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"No, she's not my girlfriend," he sighed, glancing over at Alicia again as she walked, weapon in hand. He told himself that she would give in to her feelings eventually, but she was too proud for her own good. He knew she cared for him, but her rank and her responsibility as a Lieutenant would always come before her relationships. He hadn't intended last night to happen when he took her out to Boylan's. In fact, they hadn't spoken as friends for a while and so Michael had invited her out for a drink to catch up properly. But seeing her as her true self again, laughing and smiling and downing those drinks one after the other, reminded him just why he fell in love with her in the first place. And so, with all the inhibitions gone, they wound up just where they were supposed to be.

"What kind of animals are here?" Skye asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Uh, well, there's plenty of dinosaurs."

"What kind of dinosaurs? Are they dangerous?" She looked around her, alert.

"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe here," he insisted.

"If it's so safe here, why do you need those guns?" she argued, raising an eyebrow.

Michael looked down at his weapon. He was beginning to realise Skye Tate was no ordinary young girl. There was something about her, although he couldn't quite place it, but whatever it was he liked it. "Pretty _and_ smart. You have a lot going for you, _Bucket_," he teased.

She screwed up her nose at the nickname and she was quiet after that, but it was a comfortable silence until he noticed her staring at him again.

"I like your eyes," she said.

"My eyes?" he repeated, laughing. "Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome." She cleared her throat. "Michael?"

"Yeah."

"Do you really think I'm gonna to like it here?"

He glanced over at her again, his smile growing. "Skye, I know for a fact you're going to love it here." He led them through some bushes to a clearing, and then indicated towards the gates in the distance, the colony beckoning them. Terra Nova was in sight. He watched her eyes light up, the excitement flaring up in her features.

"Welcome to your new home, Skye Tate. Welcome to Terra Nova."

**tbc**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Here is the new chapter! Sorry for the long wait. This one's a bit longer though so hopefully that makes up for it. Thanks so much for all your reviews/messages, they really help keep me motivated to write this, and there's more to come! Hope you enjoy **

Thick as Thieves chapter 9

Memorial Field.

It had been a lot emptier up until now. The Fever had hit so suddenly that they hardly had time to warn people before they started dropping like flies. Now the field was full of graves, each one fresher than the last. Today they were burying a Corporal, so various members of the security team had gathered in order to pay their respects. Michael shivered from the winter chill, standing on the cold ground beside Lieutenant Washington as he listened to his father's speech. He watched Skye stand sadly beside her mother as Taylor's voice echoed through the crowd.

"_Corporal Alexander Tate was an excellent soldier as well as a loving husband and father…"_

It all sounded so formal. So…_impersonal_. Michael couldn't stop thinking about Skye and the sadness in her eyes, the trembling in her features as if she were trying hard not to cry in front of her mother. His heart broke for her. Of course, he knew all too well what it was like to lose a parent. He had been around the same age when he lost his mother. He wished he could tell her things got easier, but in all honesty, it never did. You could put on a brave face, but that sadness would always be there, deep within the heart, threatening to resurface at any time.

The illness brought to Terra Nova by the Seventh Pilgrimage had caused nothing but tragedy. They were still working on inoculating the remainder of the colony and there were strict orders that anyone suspected of contracting the illness be confined to bed-rest. As far as they knew, there was no cure for Syncillic Fever, as Skye and her mother had cruelly discovered, but Commander Taylor was doing everything in his power to remedy the situation and to stop it from escalating any further.

"_Alexander's memory will live on at Terra Nova, and also within his loving wife, Deborah and daughter, Skye. Our thoughts will be with them during this difficult time."_

At that point, Skye gave up on trying to be brave and buried herself in to her mother's arms, her muffled cries causing a lump to form in the back of Michael's throat. As if sensing his discomfort, a warm hand came in to contact with his, giving him strength, and he turned to see Alicia smiling supportively at him. He squeezed her hand gently. _Thank you_.

She got struck with the illness almost a month later, along with Skye's mother. Michael sat by her bedside each day, holding her hand, talking to her, but she was getting weaker as time went on. Taylor pulled him aside one day and warned him that she might not have much time left. He could see the pained glint in his eyes, the sorrow in his voice, but Michael refused to believe it. There had to be a chance that she would recover. There had to be.

One day he sat with her, squeezing her cold hand, stroking her pale face, her dry lips. She was barely conscious. She had been delirious the past couple of days, mumbling nonsense, thinking Michael was Taylor, or even Lucas, and talking to him like he was ten-years-old again. Today she could hardly string a sentence together.

"Remember when I first met you?" he asked her, knowing he wouldn't get a reply. "I could hardly speak. I knew from that very moment that I wanted to be with you." He glanced over at her still frame. "You were amazing. So supportive, even when I screwed up during training and you promised not to tell my dad." He chuckled to himself. "Even after days out in the jungle, smothered with dirt, you were beautiful." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her sadly. "I just wish there was something I could do. I'd be lost without you, Alicia. You're my best friend. You have to get better, you just have to." He felt his throat close up, his eyes moistening, and he held her hand tightly within his own.

"Son?"

He cleared his throat, dropping her hand suddenly back on to the mattress. His father was at the bedroom door, staring at him. He sniffed, swiping at his eyes before the Commander noticed how upset he was. "I was just…saying goodbye."

His father smiled sadly at him, understanding. "Could you give us a minute?" he asked, stepping in to the room. "I'd like to sit with her for a bit."

"Sure."

Truthfully, Michael was relieved that his father had interrupted them. Seeing Alicia like that was proving to be difficult for him, and whilst he still had the smallest bit of hope that she would recover, he was becoming more and more convinced that she would die. He was starting to feel suffocated. Alicia didn't deserve a death like that. It seemed so…_undignified_ for such a proud and courageous woman.

He walked outside in to the fresh air, inhaled deeply as if a weight had been lifted from his chest and he was finally able to breathe again. It was out there he saw Skye drifting through the market by herself, her blue eyes sad and vacant. Michael frowned, remembering that she must be going through hell at the moment too. He approached her, smiling, trying to seem supportive.

"Hey, Kid. What are you doing out here? You okay?"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, widening in surprise. She seemed tired, nervous. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"How's your mom?"

She swallowed. "Not great. I was just…picking up some things for her." Michael stared at her. She didn't seem like the inquisitive and energetic young girl he had met on the day of the fifth pilgrimage. It was as if she had aged a few years already, fast becoming an adult before she really had to be one. He felt for her. When his mother died, he felt like he had to be the one to take care of Lucas and their father. Because he hadn't witnessed her murder like they had, he felt as though he should be the strong one, the one to let them know that life could go on. He wished he had someone to do that for him now, to help him through this, to help him be strong.

"How's Lieutenant Washington?" asked Skye, noticing Michael's distracted gaze.

For a moment he was unsure how to answer. He didn't want to upset her any further, but what could he say? So in the end he opted simply for the truth. "Not good either."

She frowned. "I'm sorry…You and the Commander must be so sad." Skye bit her lip, watched Michael's despondent gaze, his drooping shoulders, his tired eyes. Then she said something he never thought he'd hear her say: "What if I told you I knew where you could find some medicine?"

"Skye, what are you talking about?" he questioned, his brows furrowed. "There _isn't_ any medicine for Syncillic Fever."

She pursed her lips together, her blue eyes wide as they stared intensely in to his. "I know there is. And I know who has it."

And that was how Michael found himself on Mira's doorstep. He still wasn't entirely sure how Skye knew about Mira's secret cure for the disease, or how the woman had come across a cure at all. He had always been unsure about her ever since she arrived on the sixth pilgrimage. He didn't see her around very often, but when he did he noticed she seemed very hostile and secretive. Michael guessed now he knew why.

She didn't seem happy to see him. She greeted him with that usual scowl, although she tried to cover up her annoyance with a forced politeness. "Corporal Taylor? What can I do for you?"

He kept his voice low and calm, but there was desperation in his eyes. "I heard you have medicine for Syncillic Fever. I don't know why you've been keeping it a secret and quite frankly, at the moment, I don't care. All I want is enough to cure a friend of mine."

"A friend?" she repeated curiously. "This wouldn't happen to be Lieutenant Washington, would it? I know you and the Commander are close with her…"

He frowned. "Can you help me or not?"

She paused, considering it. Then she smiled at him and opened the door a little wider. "Come in, Corporal."

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he should trust her, uncertain about going through with this. He considered abandoning this altogether and telling his father everything, but then he thought about Alicia, dying in that bed, barely holding on, and so he followed Mira in to the house. Some things he just had to do by himself.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he was surprised to find it was just like any other of the houses there. There were potted plants, piles of old books, even photographs, including one of a small girl who looked much like Mira herself.

"Who's that?" he asked, indicating towards the picture.

Mira scowled. "Nobody. Now do you want the medicine or not?"

Michael remained quiet as she headed to another room and started rifling through what he guessed was a cabinet. Eventually, she found what she was looking for and then she reappeared to hand it over to him.

"I want something in return," she snapped, withholding the medicine from him.

"How much?" he muttered bitterly, expecting this. He began to pull out some terras from his jacket pocket.

"Not that. If I give this to you, I want a favour."

"A favour?" he spat. "What kind of favour?"

She smirked at him, her dark eyes gleaming. "That's all I can say for now, that sometime in the future I'll need something from you. And you have to give it to me."

He furrowed his brows suspiciously. "And if I refuse?"

"Let's just say that by then you won't be in a position to refuse. Now do we have a deal?"

Michael stared at her, every instinct of his telling him that this was a bad idea. She was oozing with confidence, thriving off the sudden power she had over him. She was in complete control. He knew he couldn't trust her. But he had no choice. If he wanted to save Alicia, he would have to accept.

"Okay," he murmured. "Deal."

She smirked again, placing the medicine in his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Corporal Taylor."

He pocketed it quickly, resenting the smug look on her face, contemplating what this so-called favour was going to be. But he couldn't worry about that now. He had what he came for. Now he could save Lieutenant Washington. He headed for the door.

"One more thing," he heard Mira's conceited voice slither in to his ears again. "You won't tell your father about any of this."

He chewed his lower lip, glaring back at her. Of course. He nodded slowly, although he was completely against the idea. But he wasn't at all surprised. He knew Mira was up to something, but he was desperate. And so he agreed, and he left.

It was miraculous. Within days, Wash began showing signs of improvement. Her fever had gone down, she was awake, she was talking. The recovery process was slow; she was still too weak to walk or eat properly, but it was a start. Michael was there to keep her company, to talk to her, to help her through it. He was just happy to see her warm smile and hear her comforting voice again.

Michael was sat in the Command Centre with his father, discussing her recovery and the reduction in Syncillic Fever over the past few weeks. It seemed the worst was finally over.

"I don't know how it happened but I'm glad it did," Taylor smiled. "Maybe we can finally get things back on track round here, uh?"

Michael nodded, relieved. "For a while there, I thought…" he trailed off, the anguish in his green eyes returning at the thought of what could have been.

"I know," his father sighed, empathising. He paused, watching his son from the other side of the desk, his gaze becoming even more sombre. "I'm glad you're alright too."

"Me?" Michael questioned, bemused. "Of course I'm alright."

"I just mean if you'd got struck down with that damned fever too…I'm not sure what I would have done, that's all," he explained, frowning again.

"Dad…" Michael said gently, noticing the sorrow in the old man's eyes. "You have nothing to worry about. I didn't get sick, I'm still here."

"And I'm glad," his father replied, his pale eyes shining. "Which brings me to this; I need to talk to you about something." He lowered his voice: "Have you noticed anything suspicious about some of the folks who came on the sixth pilgrimage?"

Michael's stomach turned. His chest tightened. He instantly thought of Mira. "What do you mean?" he asked hoarsely.

"I think they're hiding something," Taylor confessed, peering through the window at the crowds outside. "We've been noticing some odd behaviour from them lately. Not to mention the various supplies that have disappeared in to thin air over the past few weeks."

"And…you think they stole them?"

"We've had reports of some of them sneaking around at night. Turning up in places they shouldn't be. We're keeping a close eye on them."

Michael felt his muscles tense, his skin crawling. What if Mira's deception was part of something bigger? What if his father was right and they were planning something? He was suddenly filled with dread when he contemplated what exactly he had agreed to with Mira that night.

As if having read his mind, his father added: "We think Mira's the one calling the shots."

His whole body ran cold. His suspicions were confirmed. "Why didn't you tell me about any of this?"

Taylor released a long, drawn out sigh. He shook his head. "Your friend was dying. I didn't want to burden you with anything else."

"You should have told me," Michael almost snapped.

"Right now it's just speculation," his father replied in an authoritative tone. "But I need to know, has Mira said anything to you? Anything that might suggest she's up to something?"

Michael flashed back to that night. Mira's secret miracle cure for Syncillic Fever. The mysterious favour he now owed her. _You won't tell your father about any of this._

He knew now was the time to tell his father everything, that he had gone behind his back and made a deal with the devil in order to save Wash. But he kept hearing Mira's voice in his head. That deal he made. _Let's just say that by then you won't be in a position to refuse. _It still concerned him that he didn't know precisely what she meant by that, and by now he was beginning to worry just how much power Mira really had over them. After all, she had dozens of lives in her hands; she was the only one who had medicine for Syncillic Fever. There were people still out there who were suffering from the illness, Skye's mother included. If Mira caught on to their suspicions, the cure might be lost forever. He feared what would happen if he told his father the truth, if he exposed Mira, so for reasons beyond his control, he lied.

"No," he answered, holding Taylor's interrogating gaze.

Taylor didn't question it any further.

Of course, in the end, the lie had made no difference at all. Mira and her followers had caught on to Taylor's suspicions and so one night, they ran. They took everything they could – weapons, food, medical supplies, vehicles – and then left the colony without ever looking back. Taylor referred to them as _the Sixers_ from that night on.

Michael retreated back to Wash's house to check on her the next morning. He was devastated with himself. He and the rest of the Security team had been tracking the Sixers all night, but with no luck. In the end, Commander Taylor told them to let them go. Let them survive out there by themselves. See how far they got without Terra Nova.

Michael knew that wouldn't be the last time he'd see Mira. He guessed his father knew that too.

The front door opened and Wash was standing there, fully-dressed, smiling. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" she asked. "Literally."

"Hey," he beamed. "You're up."

She breathed in the cool air. "Course I am. Never felt better."

"Good." He grinned, his eyes still adjusting to the wondrous sight of her standing there, alive and healthy. "I'm glad."

Her dark eyes met his and they stood for a while in comfortable silence. She smiled at him, but this time it was a more meaningful smile; it was a smile that told him she was grateful. She leant forward to kiss him on the cheek. _Thank you._ He savoured that kiss as though it would be their last, closing his eyes, remembering the brush of her lips beside his ear. He intended to treat every moment like this from now on. Just in case.

When he felt her warmth disappear, he opened his eyes to see she had withdrawn, and was now looking with concern at something behind him.

"Is that Skye?"

He turned to see the troubled girl floating past the house, bags under her eyes, frowning deeply. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days. Her tangled hair fell down past her shoulders in knots and her skin was so pale, she looked ghostly. Michael walked briskly towards her and stopped her in her tracks.

He took her by the shoulders. "Skye, what's wrong? What is it?"

"She's gone, Michael," she frowned.

"What?"

"My mom." Her blue eyes raised to meet his, shimmering in the sunlight. "She's…dead."

His shoulders fell in realisation, his lips parting, his eyes beginning to prick with tears at the agony she must be going through. No child should ever have to feel pain like this. But they both had, and he was so sorry she had to go through it too. She fell in to his arms and he held her tightly as if trying to communicate to her how much he felt for her in that moment; how much he wanted her to know that she wasn't alone. As long as he was here, she'd never be alone again.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

Thick as Thieves chapter 10

"Welcome to the Taylor residence, Miss Tate," Michael announced, opening the door for Skye. He took her heavy backpack as she looked around in awe. The house looked slightly bigger than hers. Tidier too. Maybe even emptier. But she liked it.

"Nice digs," she smiled, impressed. "Always wondered what the Commander's house looked like."

"Well, now you know," Taylor said, emerging from the other room. They fell silent as the Commander made his entrance. He lingered by the door frame for a beat, tilting his head to the side as he looked over at the girl with concern. "How are you, Skye?"

"Okay, I think." She forced a half-smile. "Thanks for letting me stay with you."

"Of course." He walked over to Michael and put a hand on his shoulder. "Michael will show you to your room and get you settled." He patted his son cheerfully on the back. "I'll be back later." He made his way towards the door. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Skye smiled at him gratefully, though she seemed tense. A sadness twinkled in her eye. And then the Commander closed the door and left.

Michael led Skye over to his brother's old room and stood at the doorway. "Here it is," he said, staring inside. "Make yourself at home." He took his time, gazing at the empty bed, the cabinet that still had Lucas' clothes in it, the desk in the corner where he'd sit for hours working on his calculations; hours which then turned in to days, months, years, and then he hardly spent any time in the house at all. Michael sighed, frowning. As Skye wandered inside she looked back at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You okay there?"

He breathed in deeply and took a step forwards. The truth was he hadn't been in this room for a good couple of years.

"This was my brother's room," he answered slowly, looking around as if seeing the memories of a slightly younger Lucas play out in front of him.

She blinked. "You had a brother?"

"Twin brother," he clarified.

"Wow. Did he look like you?"

He laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, yeah. He kinda did."

She seemed to brighten and she sat down on the bed next to him. "I've never met a twin before. I had no idea. What's it like? Being a twin?"

"What's it like _not _being a twin?" he retorted, smiling. Although his brother's lengthy absence was already answering that question for him.

"What's his name?"

"Lucas." He hadn't said his name in so long it was beginning to sound foreign on his tongue.

"Where is he?" she questioned. "What happened to him?"

He sighed again, thinking back to that night; the last time he saw his brother in the flesh. When he pointed that gun at their father. When their father beat him, turned the gun on his own son. He still remembered the sound of the gunshot, the echo ringing in his ears, and then he remembered; the gun was in his hand, and the body of a general lay dead in front of him.

He shuddered.

And then Lucas left forever.

He had rehearsed the lie so many times he could repeat it without the slightest bit of hesitation. It was almost as if it were true. He preferred this version to the truth anyway. He turned to her, cleared his throat. "He went missing a few years back," he told her, watching the sympathy grow in her eyes, her expression falling. "We have no idea where he is, what he's doing out there…if he's even alive."

That much, at least, was true.

She was quiet for a moment and she continued to watch him, thinking about his twin, wandering how similar he looked, if he was anything like Michael.

"Have you tried looking for him?" She stopped herself, chewed her tongue. "Sorry – stupid question."

"It's okay. Yeah, I did try," he admitted, though he often felt guilty that he hadn't tried harder. Sometimes he had to remind himself that Lucas didn't want to be found. But Skye didn't know that.

"Let's go look for him," she said, jumping to her feet.

"What?"

"Let's look for him. Let's go outside the gates. I can help you."

"Skye, are you crazy? We can't go OTG. Not without my father's permission."

"Then we'll ask him first."

He shook his head. "He'll never allow it."

"Why not?"

"Because as far as he's considered, Lucas is gone!" he snapped, beginning to lose patience.

She stood in silence for a moment, biting her lip. Then she sat down again, close to Michael, looking at him, smiling sadly. "But he's not gone," she said gently. "My parents – they're gone. But Lucas isn't. You can still get him back. I would do anything to get my parents back._ Anything_. I know you don't want to give up on your brother. You don't give up on family."

Michael exhaled heavily, closing his eyes. He knew she didn't know the full story, but she was still right. Michael still had hope that Lucas was out there, alive and well, ready to come back home. He hadn't given up, despite the fact that his father had. He would always love his brother, no matter what he did. He couldn't give up on him.

He thought to himself for a brief moment. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to take a short trip OTG, as long as they returned before the Commander noticed their absence. He turned to look at her, her blue eyes gleaming, and he smiled. "Okay." He saw the excitement light up in her face. "But this remains top secret. And we'll be back before nightfall. And no funny business out there. Promise?"

"I promise," she grinned, and she hugged him tightly. "I hope we find him," she murmured in to his shoulder.

"Me too," he said quietly.

Sneaking out was easy enough. The gap underneath the fence where Lucas used to sneak out was still there, so that was where Michael took Skye.

"Where was the last place you saw him?" Skye questioned, leading the way eagerly.

Michael was hesitant to answer. He wasn't keen on going back to that place. Not now, not ever. But he thought he should humour the girl, take her there anyway to show that there was nothing useful there - nothing to lead them to Lucas. He had tried tracking before, but despite his training he was never able to track Lucas. Either his brother was good at covering his tracks or he truly had just disappeared without a trace. He would keep replaying that night over and over again in his head, seeing Lucas vanish in to the bushes, in to the darkness. Gone. He was reminded of the games of Hide and Seek they used to play as children, how Lucas would always whine because he could never find Michael, and then he would stand there for ages, shouting his name, waiting for him to come out. Michael had considered doing that now, yelling Lucas' name until his voice was hoarse. He wondered when it was that his brother became so good at hiding. He wondered if he would ever come out.

"Why don't I lead the way?" Michael suggested, overtaking her.

"Be my guest." She grinned at him. "Hey, how come we aren't allowed OTG more often?"

"What, are you crazy?" he scoffed, shaking his head as they marched onward. "You want to get eaten out here? It's not safe."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid. I'll stay away from the big bad dinosaurs."

"But will they stay away from you?" he challenged, pointing at her humorously.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "But this place is so much bigger than Terra Nova. Look at it. It's beautiful." She turned her head up towards the towering trees. "You said so yourself when I first got here. I bet there's way more to discover out here."

He stopped and looked at her. He laughed.

She looked up at him, bemused. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just…" He paused. "It's just a typical Skye thing to say, that's all."

"Oh, because you know me so well."

"I know enough, Squirt."

"Like what?"

"I know you're adventurous," he chuckled. "I know you're brave, strong, positive. You definitely have a mind of your own." He smiled at her. "I also know you're smart _and _fun – that's a rare combination. And you're a great friend. All in all, Skye Tate, you're just a wonderful person, so don't ever let me see you putting yourself down. Okay?"

She couldn't find the words to reply. She cleared her throat, swallowing back any tears that threatened to emerge, and then she smiled at Michael, surprised at the compliments, but grateful for his kind words.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said in reply.

Michael laughed.

"Let's go."

They walked for another half hour, and then he began to recognise the terrain around them. "We're here," he murmured. "This was the last place I saw Lucas."

She walked in to the clearing and looked around her. "Why here?"

"We, uh…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "We had an argument here."

The memories of that night came flooding back to him – not that they ever left him in the first place – but now he was here it was no longer memory. It was reality. The spot where the portal had opened, the patch of grass where the general's body had lain, it all looked the same. Nothing had changed. Lucas with the gun, waving it at their father, slinking off in to the jungle, muttering threats; _Oh, you'll see me again. You both will. _He remembered it all

And he remembered what had happened afterwards. Trembling, Taylor had grabbed on to him, gripping on to his shoulders, shouting at him, telling him they had to bury the body. Michael couldn't hear anything. His face paled, his insides twisting, and then he fled to a nearby tree, retching with the repulsion of his actions.

It was when he looked up that he saw Boylan in the shadows, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief. He had stumbled upon the commotion during his nightly patrol. The two were friendly with each other, they had trained together, went on patrol together. Boylan was also close with his father. This was why Michael expected a much worse reaction than he got. But Boylan didn't blame Michael. He told him to go home. He told him he would help his father dispose of the body. In fact, it seemed like Boylan was trying to protect him from what his father couldn't.

So Michael went home and washed the blood from his hands, stared at himself in the mirror, watched his reflection stare back at him with disgust. And he never spoke of it again. But he would always remember. He would see Boylan in the bar and nod to him, smile as if it never happened. But Boylan was the only one who saw the pain he was so used to hiding from people, the guilt. Above anything, he felt sorry for him. No, he didn't blame Michael. He had and always wound blame the Commander.

"What were you arguing about?"

Skye's voice broke him from his thoughts, and he was back in the present. He turned to see her staring at him, noticing his sudden change in expression. She seemed concerned.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, knowing he could never tell her the truth. He could never tell anybody the truth. What happened here would always remain a secret. At least, that had been the plan. "He went that way."

He pointed towards the bushes where he had last seen Lucas. He heard his last words in his mind again; his apology. Michael still believed he was sincere. Skye wandered over to the spot, examined it briefly before pushing back the branches and continuing onwards.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I've learnt that if you lose something, you retrace your steps," she answered brightly. Her smile was infectious.

He followed her, knowing this was all going to be for nought, but he followed her anyway. Eventually he began to recognise the area again and he stopped.

"We can't go any further."

"Why not?"

"This area's off limits."

"Why?"

"Because the Commander says so."

She crossed her arms. "What are you hiding from me?"

His brows furrowed. "Nothing!"

She scrutinised him, pursing her lips as she stared. She could hear something.

"Is that a waterfall?"

Michael sighed. And then Skye was running away from him, towards Snakehead Falls.

"Skye, wait!"

He chased her towards the falls, his heart racing as she climbed to the top towards the rushing water. He grabbed her as she came to the edge, and he held on to her tightly as if she'd fall.

"Relax, I wasn't going to jump!" she laughed, wriggling in his arms.

He let go of her, still catching his breath. "We can't be here."

"Where's your sense of rebellion, Michael?" she questioned teasingly.

Michael cringed at her choice of words. He thought his family had had enough of rebellion. He respected the rules, even if Skye didn't. Not long ago, he wouldn't have opposed a little bit of mischief, but that was before he found the drawings. That was before his father made this place off limits. And he knew when the Commander was being deadly serious.

"The Commander's not going to know," she told him.

"He trusts me. He trusts both of us."

She didn't say anything.

"We should go back to camp. Forget about this. We're not going to find him."

Skye frowned sadly at him, watched his green eyes sail down to the ground. She held out her hand. "Jump with me."

"What?" he spluttered.

"Let's jump."

"No way."

She frowned at him. "I know you're hurting. We both are. Life is filled with so much pain, and for once I don't want to sit at home thinking about how much loss I've suffered, how much misery I'm going through. I don't want people telling me how sorry they are about my parents. I don't want to feel sorry for myself. I want to take risks. I want to enjoy life. And I really want to jump off this waterfall, and I think you do too."

She stared at him for what seemed like ages, refusing to break his gaze. He released a long, drawn out sigh and looked away. She was always right. He paused a beat. And then he stepped forward and took her hand.

Looking down below, he held his breath.

"It'll be okay," she grinned. "On the count of three." She squeezed his hand and began to count. "One. Two. Three!"

Together, they jumped, bellowing out screams that echoed through the air. It was a long jump. They soared. Michael's heart raced, the wind blowing through his hair. He felt like he was flying; he felt free. The last thing he saw before hitting the water was Skye's smiling face, laughing with him.

He tore through the water, gasping for air, still laughing. Skye bobbed up next to him, her hair soaked. She was still laughing too.

"I can't believe you made me do that!" he shouted, splashing her.

"It was fun, right?" she giggled, splashing him back.

"We're gonna to be in so much trouble, I hope you realise. I'm supposed to be watching you."

"Stop worrying!" she demanded. "Have you learnt nothing?"

"I've learnt that you're insane, now come on."

He took her hand again and pulled her towards dry land, still smiling. As he reached the bank, he felt Skye tugging on his arm, and as he turned around to face her he suddenly felt her lips being pressed against his. The kiss only lasted a couple of seconds until Michael overcame the initial surprise and managed to pull away, releasing Skye and almost causing her to stumble back in to the water.

"I'm sorry, that was dumb," she blurted out, embarrassed.

He turned away from her and began to walk towards a nearby tree.

She followed him, squeezing the water out from her hair and clothes. "Please say something."

"We can't."

"I get it. I was being stupid."

"No," he turned to look at her blushing face. She was biting her lip. "It's…" He paused, unsure what to say. He had never looked at Skye that way before, and not just because of her age. He thought about voicing this point aloud before realising that she was more than just a kid to him. Besides, pointing out the age difference made him a bit of a hypocrite. He sighed, watching her worried gaze. "There's someone else," he told her.

"Of course there is," she smiled sadly. "Who?"

He sat down, fiddling with his hands. He debated whether to tell her the truth. There were so many secrets now, chipping away at him, suffocating him. He wanted to tell her something. In the end, he knew he could trust her. After this ordeal she at least deserved the truth. "Lieutenant Washington," he told her, looking up at her face. At last he felt some relief.

"Oh." She sat down next to him. "I didn't know."

"Nobody does. Not even my father." He looked at her more seriously. "That's why you can't tell anybody. It's a secret."

"I can keep a secret," she smiled. "For the record, I think you two are kind of cute."

"Thank you, Skye."

"You're welcome."

"Let's forget about this and go home." Skye looked unsure. "It's okay. We don't have to find him today. We don't have to be sad. We tried and we took risks. We can be happy about that."

"So you_ have_ learnt something," she grinned.

"I learned from the best," he winked. "Come on."

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. She didn't see the markings on the wall across from them. Michael was relieved about that. But in the future, she would, and she would discover the truth about Lucas. For now though, some things just needed to remain a secret.

**tbc**

**A/N **– I'd just like to thank all my readers for being so patient and sticking with me and this fic! I never expected so many reviews/readers so THANK YOU so much :D:D Hope you liked this. More to come!


	11. Chapter 11

Thick as Thieves chapter 11

"Your behaviour's been inexcusable lately," Taylor scolded, looking at his son with a bitter disappointment. Michael was standing on the other side of the desk, his head bowed.

"Inexcusable?" he scorned, and he raised his head briefly to meet his father's angry gaze. "Come on, dad."

"Let me finish," he snapped. "If you were anybody else you wouldn't still be standing here in that uniform. I'm not sure why you and Skye have been going OTG but it needs to stop. She could've been seriously hurt out there today."

"It's just a sprain," Michael argued, although this only contributed to his father's rage.

"That's not the point. What if you were attacked? You know the Sixers are still lurking around out there. They could have jumped you. You put her in serious danger."

"I wouldn't have let that happen!" Michael almost yelled, resenting his father's words. "She's like a sister to me; if anything happened, I would have protected her."

"But you didn't, did you?"

Michael bit his tongue.

Taylor sighed. "What has been the matter with you lately?"

"Nothing," he insisted.

The Commander took a hard look at his child and frowned. "You have a responsibility here, Michael."

"I know. I'm not a kid anymore, dad."

"Then stop acting like one," he retorted, coming closer. "No more trips outside the gates without my permission, no more sneaking around behind my back and pulling stunts like you did today, gottit?"

"It was just a bit of fun, dad. I didn't intend for – "

"I said, _do you understand_?"

Michael paused, chewing his lower lip in annoyance. His father's eyes were hard and fierce.

"Yessir," he said. "I understand."

"Good." He sat back down at his desk, refusing to look up at him. "You can go now."

Michael sighed, lowering his gaze to the floor. It wasn't very often that his father chastised him. Being at the receiving end of his anger felt almost foreign. He already had one son as a disappointment, he didn't want another. What made it worse was that he knew he deserved it. Skye was so persuasive with her mischief, encouraging a side to Michael that he had tried to repress in his line of duty and status as a Corporal. His father was right to remind him of his responsibilities. He was foolish and immature to go gallivanting off with teenagers to play stupid games.

On this occasion they had gone OTG simply for a walk. Originally their trips had been to continue the search for Lucas, but as time went on and the trail grew colder, it began to be more about themselves than Lucas.

"Have you ever climbed a tree before?" queried Skye earlier that day as they passed through the woods.

Michael had smiled at her, remembering the big tree from his childhood; its withering branches, its rotting leaves, the laughs from he and Lucas as they climbed higher and higher. "Once," he answered.

Skye then asked if she could climb the tree, to which Michael immediately refused: "No, no, no," he said. "No way. Too dangerous."

She rolled her eyes. "What if I die tomorrow?" she argued. "And my one wish was to climb this tree?" She approached a tall one, running her hand along the smooth bark. "And I never got to? How would you feel?" She watched Michael hesitating and she smiled playfully at him. "Are you really going to deny me my dying wish?"

He was easy to break. She got her wish. She was up there like a shot, grabbing at the branches, pulling herself up with ease. Michael watched her carefully, his heart jumping every time she missed a branch, or every time he heard a twig snap. When Michael told her to stop, she kept going. Higher and higher. When he told her to get down, she exclaimed that she couldn't hear him. Then Michael heard a crack and she came tumbling down that tree just as Lucas had all those years ago.

Skye didn't cry like Lucas did. She was a little beaten up, but she'd survive.

He saw her waiting outside. She frowned sympathetically at him and followed him down the steps. Her arm was in a cast.

"I heard everything. I'm sorry, I'll talk to him."

"It's fine, I can handle it," he insisted. "Besides he's right. I shouldn't have let you go OTG."

"You know I would have gone with or without you, right?" she smirked, trying to keep up with his pace.

"Not funny, Skye."

"I'm being serious. Hunter's already asked if he can come on one of our walks with us. I said I'd think about it."

"Well, you can tell him no. No more walks, okay?"

She rolled her eyes back. "Look, I know you're worried about me but there's really no need –"

He stopped and turned to look at her, a flash of anger across his pale face. "Yes, there is a need, Skye. You don't respect the rules. And you know what? They're there for a good reason. It's so irresponsible kids like you don't do something crazy and hurt yourself. You're a prime example of why these rules are here in the first place. You're like a magnet for disaster. Not everything has to be some big adventure!"

He regretted it as soon as he said it. Seeing the hurt in her eyes, her angered frown, he pursed his lips together, wishing he could take it back. But it was too late. She walked away.

"Skye, wait!" he called, watching her move further away from him. He released a frustrated sigh, giving up and heading in to the opposite direction.

"What's her deal?" Wash asked, approaching him. Michael didn't answer. "So the Commander tore you a new one, huh?"

"Not now, Alicia. I'm not in the mood," he muttered, walking away from her. Wash caught up to him.

"Actually, I think it's the perfect time – what were you thinking?"

"I dunno."

"Exactly. You weren't thinking, Michael. Skye could have been seriously hurt."

"I know."

She slammed a hand in to his chest, stopping him in his tracks. "I know things have been tough but this isn't helping. She's a bad influence on you."

"She's just a kid!"

"Yeah, and you're the adult. You need to act like one. The tenth pilgrimage is due soon, you better sort yourself out before then."

"I'm fine," he groaned.

"You don't seem it."

"What do you care anyway?" he questioned. "You're not my girlfriend anymore." And with that, he walked away, leaving Lieutenant Washington watching as he sank in to the distance.

He ended up at Boylan's. He hadn't intended to, but he needed a friend, not to mention a strong drink.

"You look rough," Boylan commented as Michael handed him over the terras.

"Thanks," Michael replied, sarcasm in his voice. Boylan smiled sympathetically and Michael sighed. "My dad," he said, and that was all he needed to say.

Boylan's expression darkened at the mention of him, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "He puts too much pressure on ya," he mumbled. "On everyone. He's a hypocrite."

Michael stared blankly at his cup. "Nah," he said. "He's right. I messed up. I disappointed him."

"You'll go outta your mind if you try to live up to his expectations. Don't worry about impressing him. He ain't worth it."

Michael smiled sadly at him. He appreciated his kindness. Tom always knew what to say. He was almost like a second father figure to him. Always looking out for him. It made Michael wonder if he had any kids of his own, but he never asked.

Boylan leant a little closer then, lowering his voice. "Look, I got another message for ya. From Mira."

"Again?" Michael whispered, distressed.

"She wants to meet you in the usual place."

"I can't keep doing this," Michael hissed.

"Then you shouldn't have done whatever it was you did to get involved with her in the first place."

He shook his head bitterly. He couldn't change that now, and even if he had the chance he wouldn't. Not for the world.

"My father will kill me if he finds out."

"She probably just wants to scare ya," Boylan murmured. "I'll come with ya."

"No, it's okay," Michael sighed, getting to his feet. "This is something I should do by myself."

Boylan nodded, empathising with the boy. Having dealt with Mira for months now he could understand Michael's trepidation. He hoped he knew what he was doing. He wished him good luck.

Michael arrived at the meeting place. He was aware that this broke his father's demands, but he didn't have a choice. He still owed Mira a debt. She emerged from the bushes, a small group of Sixers trailing behind her, armed with guns. Michael held his hands up to show that he was unarmed, then he noticed Mira's look of fury and he felt his heart pound.

"I need more time," he mumbled.

"You've had long enough," she spat.

"You don't understand. It's not that simple."

"I told you where it is, how much simpler can it be?"

He shook his head vigorously. "I can't do this for you."

"You can and you will. You owe me a favour."

"Don't you think people will notice me breaking in to your house? Everyone knows you used to live there. I can't do it."

"Like I said, you owe me. Your precious Lieutenant Washington would be dead right now if it wasn't for me."

Michael glared at her, his breathing heavy. "I don't have to do this. I don't owe you anything. I've taken a big enough risk just by agreeing to meet you."

He could see she was angry by the way her teeth were grinding together and how her eyes pierced in to him so fiercely. He thought he had won but then Mira nodded to two of the men behind her, one of whom grabbed Michael violently and held his arms behind his back.

"Hey! Get off me!" he yelled before being met with the force of the other guy's fist. Groggily, he fell back in to the first guy's arms, and then in his blurred haze he saw the butt of a gun coming towards him, then blackness.

For a while there was nothing. Then, in the safety of unconsciousness, he thought he heard a child laughing.

"_Lucas_?"

"Gettup," he said. Then the voice became female: "_I said get up._"

He felt someone pull him up to his feet. Barely able to stand, he squinted through his sore eyes and saw Mira frowning at him.

"Are you with us?"

"What?" he said, his head pounding, his blood pumping in his ears.

"Do you know where you are?" she questioned.

Michael looked around him, realising he was in some kind of treehouse. "Where?" he asked groggily, struggling weakly against the Sixers who were gripping on to him.

"This is where we live," she announced, glancing around the site. "It's not much but it's home."

"Home," he repeated. "How can this be home? Terra Nova was your home before you turned against it." There was hate in his voice.

Mira smiled. "I have something to show you. Something that will convince you to help us."

"I'll never help you," Michael spat as he was dragged to a small corner of the treehouse. "I would never betray my father. You people are traitors. All of you."

Mira stopped him and indicated to a sleeping figure curled up behind her. She was lying on a makeshift bed with a blanket pulled over her. Michael saw her face, her pale features. She was sick. Then as he stepped closer, he recognised her.

"Is that…Deborah Tate? But…but she's dead."

Mira stopped him from walking any further. "As you can clearly see, she lives."

"But how? I don't understand. Does Skye know she's alive?"

"All you need to know is that if you don't get us what we need then she won't be." She glanced back at Mrs Tate sleeping, oblivious to all of this. "She has Syncillic Fever. As you know we have the medicine for it. But if you don't get what I ask for, we'll let her die."

"You can't!"

"We will." She stepped close to him, her dark gaze glaring through him. "Don't underestimate us, Michael."

He stared at her, his heart racing, his head still thumping. He paused for a beat, searching for any potential way out of this, then he sighed, giving in.

"If I get it, will you let her free?" Her silence wasn't reassuring. "Please. We have a new doctor coming on the tenth pilgrimage. She could help her."

"I'll consider it." Her jaw stiffened, her muscles tensing. "Now get me that box."

He couldn't be sure if she was telling the truth or not, but he couldn't refuse now. He glanced over at Skye's mother again, thinking about how he would give anything to have his mother back, how he risked everything to save Wash. He couldn't let Deborah die. "Okay," he answered. "I'll do it."

Mira smirked triumphantly. "Take him back to his precious Terra Nova."

"You're not gonna knock me out again, are you?" Michael asked.

"No," she replied, amused. "Blindfold." And she was the last thing he saw before darkness covered his vision.

Hours later, Mira found herself in the jungle again, pacing the ground impatiently. She was waiting for the next Taylor boy to show up. He emerged – late again – from the shadows, sporting a couple of scars across his neck. Mira raised an eyebrow.

"About time you showed up, _Jungle Boy_," she muttered impatiently.

"Do you have it?" he snarled, his eyes wild. He looked tired, filthy. His clothes were torn and ragged, his hair in messy clumps. He looked an awful sight compared to his brother.

"Soon," she said.

"_How _soon?"

Mira glared at him. "Soon enough. And your own dear brother is going to deliver it to us."

"Michael?" he scoffed. "How did you rope him in to something so devious? My father's precious golden boy would never betray him."

She smirked. "It's all about leverage," she answered, looking pleased with herself. "In the meantime, we have the girl to get us intel."

"I don't care about that," he snapped. "All I want is that box - all I want is that colony_ ripped to shreds, _with my father on his knees_, begging _me to forgive him_._"

"So much anger," Mira commented unsympathetically, watching the hate gleam in his eyes. "What exactly did Taylor do to you?"

"Just get me the box," he seethed, barely controlling his temper.

"You'll get it. You just have to be patient."

"I'm not known for my patience," he hissed, slinking back in to the darkness.

"He's cute," Mira called after him. "Your brother. Like a lost puppy. But I see the resemblance."

Lucas froze, turning slowly to glare at her, his frown deepening.

"You look very similar," she continued, fully aware that the mention of the likeness between Lucas and his brother infuriated him.

"He's nothing like me," he muttered before disappearing again.

**TBC**

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed the chapter! This should be the last 'flashback chapter' before the tenth pilgrimage come and the Shannons arrive! Thanks so much for reading and please review! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello, lovely readers, I'm still here! I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. I moved home for the summer and I had to find my muse again, but I found her in the end! Please note, I haven't forgotten about this fic. I think about it and make notes on it all the time! I don't plan on giving up on it! Looks like we have one more flashback chapter before the tenth pilgrimage! I hope you are all still there and will enjoy this chapter!**

Thick as Thieves chapter 12

Eleven years had passed since Ayani Taylor's death. Michael could feel it in the air again, could feel a coldness resonating within his heart – an absence. Another year without her here. Another year without his mother in the world, not even in the one he left behind. He sat up in bed, having not slept a wink all night, trying to remember her face. In his memory she was blurred a bit, but he could remember how beautiful she was. And that she was a kind and gentle woman. He remembered being held in her arms when he was small, hearing her soothing voice. It was just an echo now, fading away in the distance. Her warmth, her smile - like everything else about her – now floating in the wind, lingering in the air. He wished he could reach out and touch her, feel her presence. He missed her more than words could describe. But like his father, he would remain strong and dignified today. Like he kept telling himself, he wasn't a grieving little boy anymore, and he had work to do.

He got dressed and made his way outside the gates with some of the other officers, pondering how Lucas was going to be spending this day. Wherever he was, he knew he must be hurting. He could feel it surging through him as he if were carrying the pain for them both. He cleared his throat when Lieutenant Washington, knowing the significance of today, placed a hand on his shoulder and asked how he was. As always, he told her he was fine. Or he would be once they started today's training exercises.

* * *

><p>"You need to work on your aim," Wash called over to him during target practice. She approached him and took hold of his weapon, repositioning Michael's grip on his gun. "If those Sixers are gonna attack, you can't afford to miss."<p>

"I know how to aim," he mumbled, clutching the sonic tightly.

"Not what you're showing me. You can do better. And if one gets too close? Sonic Knife," she said, raising one to his view and handing it to him. "Careful. You cut your finger with that and it'll come clean off."

"I'll keep that in mind," Michael replied, pocketing the knife and returning to his rifle.

"You sure you're okay?" Her voice was more gentle this time, and for some reason Michael wished she would go back to yelling at him. "I understand if you need to sit this one out."

"No," he almost snapped, refusing to look at her. Instead he focused on Guzman in the distance, yelling at somebody, and he sighed. "No", he repeated, his voice softer this time. "I can do this."

How could he tell her that there were so many things going on in his mind at the moment? That sometimes he felt like screaming, that he felt stuck, and unworthy of her sympathy?

She didn't question it any further and proceeded to observe him, noticing his aim was still slightly off. She didn't correct him this time, knowing that she couldn't blame him for being a little unfocused, today of all days.

After training, Michael followed behind everyone else, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He knew he would have to meet his father again for their annual get-together. Only this time, the thought filled him with dread. He was finally starting to see what Lucas was talking about those years ago. Drinking and sitting in silence for an hour wasn't going to bring her back, and he could pay his respects any way he wanted. Plus, he didn't really feel like spending time with his father at the moment, not even today.

Wash asked him again if he was okay, and by now she was fully out of teacher-mode. Now she was asking as a friend, possibly something more. She stopped him before they got to the gates.

"Michael, I know you're hurting. I know things have been tough for you lately. And despite what you might think, I do care. You can still tell me anything, you know. I'm not going anywhere."

He stared at her, a small, sad smile appearing in the corner of his lips. He suddenly remembered at Corporal Tate's funeral when she had held his hand, all inhibitions dissolved because she had wanted to comfort him. Because she cared. He felt bad for snapping at her. He hated it when they fought. When he looked in to her dark eyes, he saw what had kept him going these past few years. It wasn't his father, or even Skye, but Alicia. She was there to look out for him, there to kick his ass when he was feeling sorry for himself or doing something stupid. He adored everything about her, even if she didn't feel the same. He missed her.

He didn't even hesitate. His face leant slowly towards hers, closing his eyes, and he kissed her. He didn't feel her respond, but she didn't pull away either, so he took that as a good sign. He brought his hand to her cheek and caressed her gently, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner, wondering how he had ever let them drift apart. He felt Alicia's hand on top of his and he smiled against her lips, eventually pulling away to look at her. She was hard to read as ever; typical Alicia. But she was looking at him with such intensity.

"I have to go home," he whispered, and he let his hand slowly drop away from her face. He left her, hoping she might still be there for him when he came back, but doubting it severely.

* * *

><p>He entered the house to see bags by the door and he sighed wearily, the high wearing off as he watched Skye leave Lucas' old bedroom with another bag in her grasp.<p>

"I'm gonna miss you when you go," he told her. "Are you really sure you want your own place?"

She smiled that smile that made her whole face brighten. "Yeah. I can't stay here forever in your brother's room. It doesn't feel right somehow." She came closer to him, still smiling and looking up at his tall frame. "Besides, it'll be fun. And I already have some roomies so I won't be lonely."

"Still," he said, a smile breaking his frown. "It's a big change for a little squirt like you."

"Oh, I think I can handle it," she grinned, amused as she set her final bag down. "I know you're gonna miss me."

"What?" he scoffed. "And miss all those hours you spent hogging the bathroom? Not likely."

She hit him playfully. "Exaggerating, much?"

"I don't think so," he laughed.

She pushed him again and he laughed harder.

"Seriously though, how you holding up?" she asked, her face becoming more solemn.

"I wish people would stop asking me that," he moaned, walking over to the kitchen. "I'm fine."

She followed him, still concerned. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

The idea sounded appealing, but he shook his head, frowning. "Can't. I have to meet with my dad later. It's kind of like a tradition." He sighed again.

She leant over the counter opposite him. "You don't sound too keen about it."

He looked down for a while, thinking. "It's just…I can't do it anymore. I don't want remembering my mom to be so…_formal_. I wanna remember her my own way…" he paused, thinking again, when he looked up and smiled. "Let's go for that walk."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," and he took her hand and led her towards the door before they had time to change their minds.

* * *

><p>Michael took her to that tree they visited once; the one she fell out of on one of their walks. This time the only way he'd let her climb it is if she promised not to go up too high. They sat on a branch side by side, their legs swinging in the empty space below. They gazed at their surroundings, listening to the rhythm of the leaves blowing in the breeze. Michael breathed in the clean air and he smiled at the serenity he felt. He told Skye the story of the big tree from his youth and how Lucas had climbed it despite his father's demands. Skye giggled and told him she and Lucas sounded as though they would make good friends. He smiled at that.<p>

"How did she die?" she asked, referring to his mother again, and Michael fell silent. After a short while he began to tell her the whole dreadful story, how his family had been captured and beaten and tormented, how evil men had made his father choose between two people he loved dearly, and what happened after he made his choice.

Sometimes Michael wondered…what would have happened if he had chosen his mother instead of Lucas?

"That's terrible," she said, her blue eyes wide with horror at the tale, and she squeezed his hand tightly. "You must miss her a lot."

"Every day," he admitted, feeling his eyes prick with tears. He sniffed and fought them away, looking back at Skye who seemed to be battling her own tears.

"I miss my parents too," she said quietly, looking down at the earthy ground below. "It just isn't fair."

He wanted more than anything at that moment to tell her the truth, that her mother was still alive. Just to give her some hope. She deserved to know. But he didn't dare. With any luck, after today, he would fulfil his task and get Mira what she asked for. Then, if she remained true to her word, perhaps he would be able to take Deborah home with him. Skye needed her mother, and for her it wasn't too late.

On the way home, once Skye and Michael arrived back at the colony, they were approached by Guzman who looked less than pleased to see them. He stopped in front of them, his gaze directed entirely at Michael.

"Your father wants to see you immediately."

Michael had been expecting this, but it didn't make him any less nervous. He still hated upsetting his father, even if they had been distant towards each other lately. He nodded at Guzman and said his goodbyes to Skye, bracing himself for the worst.

"Where were you?" his father demanded, almost steaming towards him as soon as he walked through the door of his office.

Michael's heart jumped. Once he recovered from the Commander's abrupt questioning, he answered simply, "We went for a walk."

"A _walk_?" he repeated furiously. "I suppose this was with Skye? After I specifically told you, no more going OTG with her? After I warned you of the repercussions?"

Michael supposed he could have come up with a million excuses, but this time he didn't bother. He just shrugged.

Taylor couldn't be any more outraged with his son. "I waited for you today, Michael. You were supposed to meet with me."

"Well maybe I didn't feel like it this time, dad. Maybe I felt like remembering mom my own way today."

He made an agitated, grumbling noise. Then, shaking his head, he added: "The lying needs to stop. Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

Michael furrowed his brows, contemplating what he meant by that. For a horrifying moment, he thought he might have found out about his dealings with Mira, and then he continued:

"You should have told me about your relationship with Lieutenant Washington."

His body ran cold and a surreal feeling swept over him. Partly, he was relieved that he hadn't been referring to Mira. But on the other hand, he was appalled – and moreover, confused.

"Who told you?" he asked after what seemed like several minutes. He could barely look him in the eyes. "Skye?" Although he hated the idea of her betraying his trust like that. He tried racking his brain to think who else had known.

"Wash," he answered quietly.

Michael stepped forward, even more bewildered. "_What_?" His voice was a hushed mixture of confusion and hurt.

"I'm glad she came to me, Michael," he added, walking over to the window. "If I'm honest, I'm not thrilled it happened in the first place, but I'm more disappointed that you hid it from me for so long."

Staring tragically at the mud on his shoes, the only word Michael heard properly was _disappointed._

"Still, she's informed me that it's over with. Is that true?"

He nodded weakly, his jaw stiffening. There was another long, uncomfortable pause. Taylor inhaled deeply and approached him again.

"I suggest we put this behind us and move on."

"_Yessir_," Michael grumbled. The awkwardness of the situation was becoming overwhelming and Michael began to feel his emotions run wild. Confusion had surpassed on to anger, as well as heartbreak. He couldn't understand why Alicia had done this, or why his father was reacting this way. But he held his tongue and said no more. He couldn't afford to anger the Commander any further. It was obvious he didn't want Michael seeing Alicia ever again, although he didn't say this outright. He wondered why, and for a brief moment even considered something could be going on between the two. The thought made him even angrier. But it was just that; a thought. His muscles tensed. He could feel his fists ball up, even his toes curling inside his shoes. He needed to get out, and when Taylor finally dismissed him, he had never been so happy to leave his sight.

When he left the command centre, he saw Alicia waiting outside, biting her lip. She was in the same exact spot where he had pulled her over and kissed her years before. She looked worried.

"Why?" was all he said.

"I had to. I couldn't lie to him anymore, Michael. He trusts me."

"He trusted ME," he almost yelled.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"I'm the one who always wanted to tell him. You said no. We could have told him together. We could have _been_ together."

"No, we couldn't," she argued.

"Why not?"

She hesitated. It wasn't often she looked flustered and nervous, but now was one of those occasions. She looked him in the eyes, distressed. "Because you're important to me, Michael, but so is he. More than you know. You were just a boy when we fought together in the war. You don't understand. He's the closest friend and ally I'll ever have and I can't let him down. I won't."

She was right; he didn't understand. Her words only frustrated him and the mention of his father made him angrier. He hated that his eyes were starting to water, the lump in his throat swelling. He felt lost without her. "I need you," he whispered.

"You don't need me." She dismissed his words so easily.

"You're the only one who ever believed in me."

"That's not true. You know it isn't." She placed a hand on his shoulder. Not too close, but close enough. "You're stronger than you think. You're always worried about other people; me, your father, Lucas. You don't need us to define you."

He closed his eyes, savouring her touch, willing the tears to vanish. She pulled away slowly.

"Why today?" he asked. "Why now?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't plan it," she explained remorsefully, hesitating before she said the next bit. "It's just…when you kissed me…I needed him to know before…"She pursed her lips, unsure how to continue.

Michael nodded. He got that bit at least. He knew she cared for him. She just didn't trust herself. As much as she wanted to be with him, she couldn't. At least that's what he understood from her explanation.

She forced one last goodbye smile before heading passed him. He didn't watch her leave, knowing it would be all the more painful if he did. He sniffed and cleared his throat before wandering off towards Boylan's. He probably looked a sight. He was still scruffy from his walk OTG with Skye, not to mention the bags under his eyes from a sleepless night of tossing and turning. Now added to that was the persistent lump in his throat as well as the pinkness forming in his eyes due to the tears he refused to shed.

Boylan's was closed, but he went there anyway. The place was empty. He began to think about his mother again, wondering what she would have to say about all this. He thought about that day in Somalia. How unfair it was. How the people you love could disappear in one simple moment. He remembered her; her laugh, her smile. His mother's hair blowing in the sandy wind, her distant screams as they put her to death. He still remembered, and as Boylan saw him standing shivering at the door, the older man embraced him as if he were his own son, and Michael let a few of his tears shed.

**TBC**

**A/N: Well that's it for now. I'm sorry that was so sad! I also apologise if my updates are a bit slow from now on, I'm still trying to figure out how I am going to approach the show's timeline. Is there anything in particular anyone wants to see? :P**

** Thanks for reading! **


	13. Chapter 13

Thick as Thieves chapter 13

Getting to this point hadn't been easy. Guzman had been watching him like a hawk for weeks, reporting his every move back to his father. Michael hadn't even been out of the colony since their last argument, only for the occasional supply run, and even then he had always been accompanied by the security officers. Getting in to Mira's place was unthinkable. It was only after everybody was recovering from the events of the day that he saw his opportunity. He had been here earlier, standing outside of her house when the tenth pilgrimage arrived. He had been told he wasn't allowed to accompany them as they came through the portal that morning. Instead, he had been given the boring job of babysitting the unconscious Sixer in the Infirmary, suffering from a shot wound inflicted whilst siphoning their power. Typical Sixer, Michael thought. He was growing increasingly tired of them.

That was partly why he had left him in the care of another officer, claiming he needed a break. The air felt thick as he found himself by Mira's old housing unit. It still looked exactly the same as the night he came knocking at her door, desperate for her help. He half-expected her to walk out towards him, that bitter smirk across her lips, her arms folded, asking him: _what are you waiting for_?

Of course he couldn't have done anything yet. He was just contemplating his next move, how on earth he was going to get inside without being noticed. He suddenly felt sick, the stench of his betrayal still lingering in the air. He sighed. He hated himself for doing this. Whichever way he did it, he'd still be a traitor. Whether his intentions were good didn't matter. He was becoming the very thing he swore he would never be. In fact, he feared he was becoming more and more like Lucas every day. He feared his father had realised it too.

"Michael. What are you doing here?"

Michael jolted with surprise, realising Mark Reynolds was standing across from him, fully dressed in his military uniform. He looked more professional than Michael, who hadn't even bothered to wear his armour today.

"I, uh, got bored of babysitting," he replied, digging his hands in to his pockets. "Needed a break."

He watched nervously as Mark glanced from him to Mira's house, his eyebrows arching slightly. But he didn't question it any further. "We just got back from escorting the tenth pilgrimage," he explained. "Commander's giving the welcome speech right now."

Michael turned to look across the market in the distance, towards the command centre to see that the Corporal was indeed right. He hadn't even noticed the group enter the colony, too wrapped up in his thoughts to acknowledge their arrival. But he could hear his father's old, recycled speech – the one that had lost its appeal years ago. It never changed, not by much. By now Michael knew it word for word: _We are at the dawn of a new civilisation, etcetera, etcetera. _And _so on_ and _so forth_.

"I've gotta go," Mark told him. "There were two stowaways and Taylor wants answers."

"_Stowaways_?" Michael repeated under his breath, the word sounding almost foreign. Now that was new. Not in seven years could he ever recall any stowaways sneaking their way through the portal. He was curious as to how his father would deal with the predicament. "By the way," he added, as Mark began to walk past him. "Did my father happen to mention why I couldn't escort the pilgrimage today?"

"No, I didn't ask," Mark shrugged, offering him a brief smile before backing away towards the large crowd. "I'll see you later. You should probably keep an eye on that Sixer."

"Yeah," he muttered, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Course." He watched as Mark shrunk in the distance, disappearing in to the crowds. He couldn't help feeling a little jealousy. At least, he thought that's what it was. He had never really been jealous before. Reynolds was a fine Corporal, especially for his age, although he wasn't much younger than Michael himself. But Michael knew he was suddenly only getting the more important jobs due to how he had been behaving lately. His father thought him to be irresponsible. After years of devoted service, that stung a little bit. But he didn't blame him. He was being punished. His father simply didn't trust him for the time being. He could sense it, see it in the old man's expression, and that pained him more than words could describe. The worst thing about it though was that he was right to be suspicious. He deserved this.

After what happened next, Michael wished he never went back to that Sixer – or Carter, as Michael knew him by. Desperation had made him naïve. So Carter, who had finally regained consciousness, manipulated him the same way Mira had. In exchange for his freedom, he had promised Michael more time, as well as proof that Deborah was still alive. The young Corporal considered letting Carter steal the box for himself before coming to the conclusion that that would be next to impossible, especially in broad daylight. No, Michael would have to do it. And soon. But he still had reservations about making deals with Sixers.

"How can I trust you'll remain true to your word?" he demanded as he stood at Carter's bedside, shooting him a hesitant glare.

Carter smirked at him. "Well if you would untie me, we could shake on it," he joked.

Michael sighed, hesitated for one more moment, then, clicking his tongue, he beckoned over one of the doctors. By chance it happened to be Doctor Shannon. He smiled and introduced himself briefly before making up some lie about Carter having to use the bathroom.

"Oh, of course," she said politely, although she seemed a little unsure. She was shorter than he imagined her to be. "Do whatever you need to do," she smiled.

Michael nodded her a thanks and then proceeded to untie his prisoner.

"Like a charm," Carter sneered arrogantly. "It's what I love about you Terra Novans – so naïve."

Michael grabbed him roughly, making him wince, and then pushed him outside.

He escorted him behind the building and handed him back his shirt.

"There's a gap underneath the fence over there in that direction," he pointed beyond the market where the generators were. "You'll be able to get out that way, hopefully without anyone noticing."

Carter looked smug as he buttoned up his shirt.

"And you'll promise me Deborah Tate will be safe? That you'll tell Mira to give me more time?"

"You have my word," he said pompously.

Michael nodded, still unsure. "I don't want to see you here again, understand me? We'll meet in the usual place. I'll get you the box – soon – and then I want nothing more to do with your people."

"Of course," said Carter, beginning to wander off towards his escape route. "Thanks for the help."

It was then, in one swift movement, Carter pulled out a laser knife, grabbing Michael and holding it to his throat.

"_What are you doing_?" Michael choked, realising he must have swiped the weapon from his pocket somehow. "I was letting you free!"

Carter laughed as he tightened his grip around Michael's torso, restricting his breathing. The laser illuminated underneath his victim's chin.

"If this is about the box, I told you, you'll never get it without being noticed."

"Screw the box!" he retorted. "I'm going for the gold." He then slammed Michael's head against the wall, causing him to drop to his knees in a daze. When he looked up groggily, his head pounding, he realised Carter had taken his rifle and was now advancing quickly towards the market.

His head throbbed; he saw stars. He could feel a bruise already protruding across his temple, but he struggled wearily to his feet, stumbling as he felt the world sway from side to side. In his blurred vision, he saw Carter, and then he saw his father, then the gun.

"Dad!" he spluttered, staggering forwards. He began to run, watching with panic as Carter aimed for Taylor. So that had been his plan all along. "CARTER NO!" he screamed, breaking in to a sprint, the blood from his head wound beginning to trickle down his face. His heart stopped as he heard a blast, and screams, and then he felt sick as he witnessed his father on the ground. But then he saw another figure was tackling the Sixer, forcing the weapon from his grip, and his father was being helped back up, his sonic still firmly in his grasp. He breathed a sigh of relief, then felt his stomach turn as he approached the scene.

"Dad," he breathed shakily. "I'm sorry. He caught me off guard."

Taylor said nothing – he didn't seem to blame his son, but he seemed too preoccupied with something else. He turned his attention to the stranger who had saved his life, getting to his feet now Carter was under control.

"Shannon," he said eventually, and calmly as if the incident had never happened. "This is my boy." He smiled. "Michael, this is Jim Shannon. And I do believe he just saved my life."

Michael pulled his attention away from Carter, who was now being dragged away to the Brig, when he heard the word _Shannon _and something clicked. He observed the older man, who was frowning at him, obviously confused and angry, and then Michael realised Jim Shannon wasn't on the list for the tenth pilgrimage.

He had to admit, he had been weary of the newcomer, and he didn't like how quickly his father had taken to him. Not long after this, he discovered that Taylor had made him their newest security officer, all because of one spontaneous act of heroism, while Michael was still expected to babysit prisoners and go on tedious supply runs. It hurt how his father trusted a man he barely knew over his own son, how _he_ had been rewarded while Michael was still being punished. He remembered discussing the issue with Alicia after getting his wounds sewn up. Taylor had visited him briefly to see how he was, but he seemed more interested in this stowaway than anything else. Michael hadn't done a very good job of hiding his bitterness.

"He _did_ save Taylor's life," Alicia said in his defence, sitting opposite Michael in the infirmary. He was scrubbing at the blood on his face.

"I just don't think he should be treated so highly, especially considering he's not supposed to be here."

She watched him from the corner of her eyes, pausing a beat, letting a smirk emerge. "You're jealous."

"No," he groaned.

"You're just getting pissy 'cause you're getting stuck with all the crappy jobs."

"I suppose you're going to tell me I deserve it?"

Her smile disappeared and she shrugged.

"Yeah, well, you have no idea what's going on," he mumbled, rubbing the scab that was already forming on his head, tracing a finger along the stitching. It hurt like hell.

"Then tell me," she urged. "Maybe I can help."

He felt his teeth grinding together. "You can't. I need to go." He got to his feet, swaying, losing his balance, and then he felt Alicia's hand on his arm, steadying him.

"We're okay, aren't we?" she asked, looking in to his eyes, still holding on to him as if to force him in to looking at her. "We haven't talked much."

He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to tell her everything. But he just sighed, forcing a smile. "Yeah. We're okay."

Nothing seemed to be okay at the moment. And to make matters worse, Mira's stunt with the Carnotaurus that afternoon only caused more panic and tension within the colony. She must have been getting impatient, because when she announced that the Sixers still had friends in Terra Nova, she glared at him with such ferocity, as if to say time's almost up.

That's why he was outside of her house that evening. Because even though helping Mira – or any of those traitors – made him sick to his core, he couldn't just sit around knowing he had willingly put Skye's mother to death. Whatever this box was, he didn't think it posed any real threat to the colony. And as long as he saved a life in the process, he told himself everything would be okay. Then at least Skye could have her mother back.

Skye. She was still as rebellious as ever, still taking secret trips OTG without telling anybody – not even Michael. It wasn't until today that she learnt the hard way how irresponsible she was being, putting she and her friends in serious danger and nearly giving Michael a panic attack. A whole new level of stupid, he had called it when he confronted her about it afterwards. She was bleeding and had a nasty cut on her arm, but he was relieved it had been nothing serious. Her friends hadn't been so lucky. She said she knew it was stupid.

"I warned you that the big bad dinosaurs might not stay away from you," he said teasingly, reminding her of a conversation they had once upon a time.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Still, I have to admit, I'm impressed. I heard you did a pretty good job of taking charge." He smiled at her.

"Must be all that time with you Taylor men. I guess it kind of rubbed off on me."

That made him laugh, and then after a brief pause she asked him about he and Lieutenant Washington. The question caught him off guard, but she seemed genuinely interested, and so he tried to give her an honest answer.

"It's complicated," he sighed. "You know…some things just aren't meant to be." He glanced down and picked idly at the loose strands of his sleeves, feeling Skye's sympathetic gaze upon him. "But…this isn't one of them." He smiled at her again. "Some day. It'll happen. Some things are worth waiting for. I don't give up without a fight."

"Spoken like a true Taylor," she smirked, giving him a playful push. Then she hugged him before heading off to speak to the Commander. As he watched her walk away, it was then he realised he had almost lost two of the most important people in his life today.

So here he was, breaking in to Mira's house, allowing himself to be manipulated because there was a part of him that believed he was doing the right thing, that what Mira promised him was the truth. Plus, he was eager to pay off his debt. Boylan kept reminding him over and over that owing the Sixers was the last position you would want to be in. After this, he told himself, he was done forever. He would put his life back together and concentrate on gaining back his father's trust, if such a thing was possible.

The house creaked in the darkness as he headed for the back room. He winced every time he heard a noise, feeling his heart pound. He felt chills as he glanced around the place. It was as if he were just here yesterday, close to breaking-point, making that deal for Wash. She would never know how all of this had been for her. Regardless, he was here now and it was almost over. He approached what looked like a conservatory, with empty plant pots piled on top of each other. He knelt down and started to trace his hand along the tiled floor, until he felt a loose one, and lifted it up. There was a secret compartment which he then attempted to pry open. After a brief moment, he had lifted the lid, and inside was the mysterious box Mira seemed to be so passionate about.

He picked it up like a newborn baby, feeling its smooth edges, its peculiar design. It was a strange-looking object, and yet there was something about it…it just made him all the more interested in what it contained. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was getting this back to Mira without being caught. Tonight, if possible, while Guzman was busy attending to his injured daughter, and while Taylor was distracted with Skye.

He started towards the door when something else caught his eye –behind the cabinet, a crumpled piece of paper. He bent down to pick it up when he saw that it was a photograph. Straightening it out, he recognised it from his previous visit a couple years back – the smiling little girl who resembled Mira. He had forgotten all about it, and so had Mira by the looks of it. He pocketed that too and then made his way quickly towards the door. His heart was thundering as he slowly opened the front door, his paranoid gaze searching for any passers-by. Still nothing, although his vision was fuzzy from the darkness. Already starting to feel better about the situation, he crept from Mira's house and down the path, clutching the box in his jacket.

"Michael?"

He froze. This couldn't be happening. He felt the blood pumping in his ears as he turned to face Reynolds behind him, watching him curiously. It was as if he had materialised from thin air for the second time that day.

"What have you got there?"

Damn. Michael glanced down at the box in his clammy hands, clearly visible from the bulge in his jacket where he was holding it. Defeated, he withdrew the item from its hiding place and instantly saw the look of confusion on Mark's face grow. His mind whirred with _anything _he could possibly say to explain himself. He was usually good with words, better than Lucas ever was anyway. But this time he felt so panicked he feared he would give himself away. Mark was staring at him now, looking impatient. So Michael breathed deeply, took a step forwards and answered him in the most assertive voice he could manage.

"I need to speak to my father. There's something he should see."


	14. Chapter 14

Thick as Thieves chapter 14

They questioned him for nearly two hours straight, but it always came back to the same story. Michael was surprised by how quickly he had adjusted to the lie – the story spun off his tongue so easily, how Carter had told him about the box in his feverish haze, how curiosity had led him to discovering the box himself before Mark had stumbled upon him leaving Mira's house. In the end, it was a pretty simple story. But his father was smart; some things just didn't add up.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Taylor quizzed him, obviously upset.

Michael shifted uncomfortably in the chair opposite him, feeling much like a prisoner being interrogated, but at least he was being interviewed in the Command Centre rather than the Brig. "I told you," he sighed. "I didn't want to bring it up in case it was nothing. I knew you were busy…I intended to talk to you about it as soon as I investigated."

"You should have discussed it with me first," his father snapped, his frosty eyes narrowing at him.

"I know."

"You _do_ know. So I'm at a loss as to why you didn't."

He felt his palms begin to sweat. "I guess I…didn't think."

"That's been an excuse you've used too often now, boy. I can't have a Corporal who doesn't use his head now, can I?"

Michael's eyes drifted back over to the box on the table and he wondered how Mira would get it now. "No, sir," he said.

"And you're sure you don't know what's in it?" Taylor asked, picking up the strange object and holding it in both hands.

"No idea," answered Michael. That much at least was true. Now he only hoped his father didn't find out. Whatever it could be, it probably wouldn't do him any favours if Taylor discovered its true purpose.

"One more thing," he added slowly, placing the box back on the desk. "Did Carter happen to mention anything about the Sixers having _friends _in the colony?"

Michael shook his head. "No. Nothing." He was just as baffled as Taylor was by Mira's comment. Even though she had been looking at him directly during her little speech, and he _had _been making deals with her behind his father's back, he had not been disclosing any important information about the colony. He had promised to get the box. That was all. He could see his father processing this, his brows knitting together with suspicion still, but he knew Michael had spent practically the whole day with Carter and couldn't have possibly told Mira about his whereabouts. Not in person anyway. It did make him curious though. Who else had been seeing Mira in secret? Who else had been sharing this burden, if they of course viewed it as such?

This was the main thing on everybody's mind for the next few weeks. Soon, rumours of a Sixer spy began to sweep through the colony. The box was safely stored away and looked after by Doctor Wallace who – even after numerous examinations – still could not identify a way to open the damned thing. It continued to cause concern. Even _Skye_ had asked Michael about it, to which he told her the same fabricated story he had told his father and hoped that that would satisfy her curiosity. Taylor seemed to make it his mission to find the culprit, however, along with his new sidekick Jim Shannon, who Michael still didn't care much for. He wasn't sure why exactly. Maybe it was the fact that his father trusted him more, even after so little time here. But as long as the suspicion was kept off of him, he didn't mind what they got up to.

"He still doesn't trust me," Michael frowned, discussing the matter with Boylan one day. They were sat together at the bar again, drinking and talking. This had become a comfortable routine for them now. Boylan seemed pleased for the company, and Michael was just relieved to have someone to talk to about all of this. Boylan poured him another drink. It looked like he needed it. "He never believed my story. He's smarter than that."

"It's a bloody shame," Boylan grumbled before downing his drink. "Look at ya – so concerned with what your old man thinks of ya. He's no better."

"He's a good man," Michael said automatically, as if he had never questioned it before. "And a good father."

Boylan scoffed, nearly snorting the liquid back up through his nose. "Maybe once! But I know one or two people who would disagree - your brother included."

Michael looked down, swirling the liquid around in his cup. He was beginning to wish he had never told Boylan the full details of what happened that night Lucas disappeared. Despite letting the former officer help him bury Phillbrick's body, Taylor had refused to explain to him the circumstances of what had happened that night, which was possibly one of the reasons Tom was still angry with him. So Michael ended up telling him everything.

"Lucas was delusional," he mumbled. "He didn't know what he was saying." This was the best excuse he could come up with for his brother's rash behaviour. Although he didn't want to admit there was something wrong with Lucas' mental health, now that he thought about it, perhaps it made sense. He had spent his entire life living in Michael's shadow. Michael was, after all, the louder, more confident twin who thrived on being the centre of attention. Even now he remembered days where he had shoved Lucas aside to receive all of their parents' praise and affection. Even when Lucas got better grades at school, everyone seemed to take a greater pride in Michael's achievements. People just liked him better. They liked his personality. Michael felt awful about it now. No wonder Lucas had felt the way he had, acted the way he did. Maybe if he would come back, Michael would be able to apologise to him and hope that he would come home and forget about it all. But that was becoming more and more unlikely now. It really _was_ all his fault. "Besides," he continued, feeling even lower now, "I'm the one that killed Phillbrick that day. My father was just trying to protect me."

"More like protect his precious colony," spat Boylan. "He was more concerned with covering up the whole thing than protecting you."

"Tom," Michael said, shooting him a warning look. "Don't talk about him like that."

"I'm just saying," Boylan replied, holding up his hands. "You'll realise it soon enough."

Michael shook his head. He'd never believe that. He had always thought the world of Nathaniel Taylor, ever since he and Lucas were small boys, waving goodbye to him with their mother as he headed off to fight, a hero. He didn't want that image to ever shatter.

But even Boylan could sense their relationship was falling apart. Michael had grown up, he had seen his father's stubbornness, his violent tendencies, even felt afraid of him a little bit. Now he was being forced to make hard, moral decisions by himself, and he couldn't even ask his father for help. At least Boylan, the only person who he could trust to talk to about this stuff, was there to offer him some support. And he had experienced dealing with the Sixers first-hand, so he knew exactly what it was like.

"There's something else I need to tell ya," Tom admitted, although he looked as though he didn't want to continue. "Mira knows Taylor has the box, and she isn't happy."

He supposed it had been inevitable, especially with this Sixer spy running around the colony. Sweeping a hand through his hair, he sighed and leant back in his seat. "Alright. What did she say?"

"She wants another chat. Soon."

"Same time? Same place?"

Boylan nodded.

Michael chewed his lip. "This spy is a menace," he said, raising his cup to his lips finally. "You know, my father thinks it's me."

"He's said this to ya face, has he?"

"No," Michael answered quietly. "I just know he does. He's not far-off though is he?"

"Michael," Boylan said, his voice sounding softer now. It seemed a bit strange to Michael, who was suddenly listening intently. "When ya think about it, all you were trying to do was return something that didn't belong to ya. This spy, whoever it is, has a completely different agenda. You're not exposing all our secrets, are ya?"

"No, but…I guess I'm worried I'm going to start losing sight of who I really am. I've done things I'm not proud of."

"All of which you did to protect someone else." Boylan rolled his eyes as if Michael was being foolish. "Sounds like a very Michael Taylor thing to do if you ask me."

Michael smiled briefly at him, touched and amused at seeing the barman acting so sentimental all of a sudden. Maybe he really did value Michael as a friend. It only helped him feel better to some extent though. "I have a feeling my father will feel differently," he sighed, thinking about how easily he had banished Lucas that night. If he discovered Michael was even communicating with the Sixers, he feared he would earn a similar punishment. After all, this wasn't like breaking the screen of his father's plex when he was younger, or receiving a bad grade in a test because he had been too busy flirting with girls to study. Taylor wouldn't just give him a smack on the wrist this time if he discovered just what he had been up to.

"You know, I used to have a son," Boylan said suddenly. The comment stunned Michael for a brief moment since he had never really heard anything of Boylan's past before. It intrigued him, and he tried to imagine the barman as a family man before he realised something must have happened to separate them.

"Used to?" Michael repeated unsurely, fearing he might be crossing a line even asking about it. But he figured if Boylan was the one who brought it up, he wouldn't mind telling him about it.

"He died. Seven years old, he was. Damn shame." His eyes shone with what seemed to be unshed tears. He shook his head. "_Damn shame_," he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. Michael couldn't remember ever seeing Boylan this sad before. He wasn't sure how he'd react if Boylan broke down right there. He secretly hoped he wouldn't find out.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely, wishing there was more he could do. He cleared his throat after another few beats of deciding whether he should ask his next question. But this may be the only time he'd ever find out anything about his friend, so he risked it. "What happened?"

"He went outside to play. Forgot his Rebreather. The air was so bad…he got sick." He didn't say anymore. Michael bowed his head, focusing on the chips in the wood of the table. There were probably a million things he could have said at this point. He knew what it was like to lose somebody, Boylan knew that too, so he could definitely relate. Suddenly he felt guilty for all those times that Tom had been there for him, and all this time nobody had been there for _him_. They sat in silence for a little while, Michael trying to think of anything at all he could, say when their meeting came to a halt as Guzman came running down the steps.

"Michael!" he called, gasping for breath. "Come with me quickly. It's your father."

Puzzled, Michael followed Guzman to the Command Centre, unsure exactly of what he would find. He was perplexed, and alarmed, to see his father raving like a lunatic, holding a knife to Mark Reynold's throat and shouting at a group that had gathered by the door. Lieutenant Washington was at the front, trying to calm him, her face full of concern, whilst the Shannon girl hung behind, watching, petrified. Michael stepped in to the room, past Guzman who had a hand on his sonic, ready to intervene.

He couldn't understand it; he had never seen his father like this. The very sight of him like this made his heart start to convulse inside his chest. "What's wrong with him?" he demanded, watching his father's gaze grow wilder, his grip on Mark tightening.

"He's been infected with something at Outpost 3," Wash answered quickly. "The whole place is quarantined. He thinks he's still at war."

_I wasn't told about Outpost 3, _Michael wanted to say, the hurt settling in. But due to recent circumstances, he wasn't surprised that this had been going on without anybody informing him. It didn't make it sting any less though.

"Stay back!" the Commander roared, the knife pressing in to Mark's throat. "What is this place?"

"It's home," Wash answered.

"_This_ is my home?" he said, unconvinced. "Alright…then where's my wife?" he challenged.

Michael's heart sunk. He couldn't even remember his own wife's death, and he could see his eyes gleam with want and desperation for her. He had never seen his father so vulnerable before, not even on the day of her death.

Wash looked back at Michael, a worried glance lingering between the two, then she frowned and looked back towards the Commander.

"_Ayani's gone, Nathaniel._"

Somehow, even eleven years later, Michael could never get used to those words. They seemed to have a similar effect on his father who loosened his grip on Mark a little bit.

"_No_," he said.

"She's dead."

"You're lying to me, Wash."

"I wouldn't lie to you about this."

Michael suddenly found his voice. "She's telling the truth, dad." He gently stepped closer, noticing Reynolds turning an unflattering shade of red, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "It's okay," he said softly. "You're at Terra Nova. You're safe. Let him go and we can talk."

"What are you talking about?" Taylor spluttered. "Who _are_ you?"

If felt like being struck across the face. "It's me," he said, his voice cracking. "Your son."

"My son," he breathed, and for a moment Michael thought he was starting to remember. But then his expression grew cold. "You're not my son."

Michael felt that image of his father, young and valiant, waving goodbye with a smile on his face, already starting to chip away. "It's Michael," he insisted. "Remember?"

Taylor began to tremble with what seemed to be rage. He released Mark and sent him stumbling towards Maddy. "Don't you lie to me. You are not my son," he fumed. "Now you better tell me where my family is."

"Mom's dead," Michael told him in a raised voice. How could he not remember the day none of them could ever forget? How could he not recognise his own flesh and blood? "You chose Lucas; mom got killed. We were both there – I'm Michael, I'm your son."

"YOU ARE NOT MY SON!" he bellowed furiously, making everyone in the room jump. Michael's eyes widened, his heart racing as a chair came soaring towards him. His father was now throwing things at him, livid, yelling over and over: "You're not my son, you're not my son!"

Each time he said it, his words seem to become truer. Michael tried to touch him, to reassure him, but Taylor knocked him down to the ground, his face red, his teeth clenched together in fury. "You are not my son," he said again, waving the knife at him. And as Michael stared up at him, fear and disbelief gleaming in his large eyes, he didn't recognise the man standing over him as much as his father refused to recognise _him_.

Wash intervened, pushing Taylor back despite the dangerous weapon he had gripped in his hands. "Nathaniel, listen to me. Everything's going to be okay. Look at me. Nobody's trying to hurt you."

Michael watched from the spot where he had fallen, witnessing Alicia's hands on his father, trying to comfort him, the look of intensity between them. Taylor had already calmed down, reassured by her touch, her comforting gaze.

Michael struggled to his feet, and when Wash turned around to see if he was okay, he was already gone.

Later, he visited his father in the infirmary whilst he was in the final stages of recovery. He stood there in silence as he listened to the Commander's apology; how he didn't know what he was doing, how he couldn't control what he was saying, but he wanted Michael to know he hadn't meant any of it. Michael was hardly listening. All he could hear were the words '_you're not my son'_ and how he wouldn't be surprised if he ever heard those words again.

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Still here! Hope you are too! Sorry this one took so long. It's actually been on my laptop a while but it needed some editing and cutting down (nearly 4000 words long! Oh dear!) Already working on the next chapter, hope you enjoy!)**

Thick as Thieves chapter 15

Sleep didn't seem to be much of an option for Michael lately. Images kept flashing in his mind, his anxious thoughts keeping him awake. It wasn't just the incident with Wash and his father that was bothering him, although that played in his head often enough. It was _everything_. His conscience for one thing but also his fear of what Mira would do when he saw her next. He could hear her now as he imagined himself making endless excuses: '_I don't understand why you're telling me this, Michael. What you should be doing is retrieving that box from your father's possession.'_

But that was surely impossible, especially with his father keeping a watchful eye on him. The box was safely locked up in the lab, and that was usually always occupied by Doctor Wallace or one of his assistants. It seemed futile to even try anymore.

He sat up and ran his fingers through his thick hair, sweeping it out of his eyes. He could hear his father snoring in the other room, knowing he would probably be up in a few hours. He sighed, wishing Skye was still here so they could have one of their late-night talks. Sometimes, especially when she first moved in, she would have bad dreams and end up in Michael's room so he could take her mind off it. He'd tease her for being so silly, and then she'd tease him back, claiming he liked her silliness. They'd sit and talk endlessly about anything they could think of but they usually ended up talking about their memories. Skye would tell him about how she used to wear buckets on her head to seem like her military father and Michael would tell her similar stories of how he used to put on his father's uniform even though it was much too large for him. She would listen intently to his tales about the Commander, and she'd laugh whenever Michael described how he sometimes joined in on their games of hide-and-seek, grabbing his boys and tickling them whenever he found them. He'd had a fun and silly side once, just like Michael, but Skye found that incredibly hard to believe.

"He's so serious now," she had said in a hushed voice so Taylor wouldn't hear.

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "He is."

He finally fell asleep, thinking of Skye and their many talks, wondering how she was getting on at her new house. Wondering if Mira would ever let her mother free…

He woke up to a commotion outside. The sun was up, there were people walking past his window. He could hear panicked voices. What was going on? Quickly, he changed in to his uniform and made his way outside. He saw his father talking to Guzman, Reilly and a group of others.

"What's happened?" Michael asked, trying to resist a yawn.

"Reilly says she saw some disturbances on the perimeter last night," Commander Taylor informed him. "Wash went to check it out earlier this morning and we haven't been able to contact her in a while. We're putting together a search team."

Alarm bells rang. "You think she's hurt?" he queried, trying to hide the worry in his voice. What if something terrible had happened to her? He thought about her face, picturing her gleaming dark eyes, her glossy black hair pulled back neatly to reveal that sly smirk she sometimes wore, the one she had whenever she was teasing him. The picture was already beginning to distort. He suddenly felt sick.

"We don't know," Taylor admitted solemnly. "We're going to find out."

"I'm coming with you," Michael insisted, following Taylor and the others towards the rovers.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Michael," his father frowned.

"Why not?"

"You know why." His tone had traces of a warning in it. "Stay here, hold down the fort until…"

"SIXERS!"

Suddenly, the alarm sounded and civilians started to evacuate the area. Michael followed his father towards the entrance of the colony, witnessing two rovers coming straight for them, a horde of Sixers spilling out of them. When the vehicles came to a halt, they saw two prisoners being bundled out the back. _Alicia_, Michael thought, his heart pounding. She and Dunham stood side by side, tied up, helpless.

Taylor put a hand on his weapon. "Raise the gate," he said calmly.

The two Taylor men walked out of the colony to meet with them, a group of Terra Nova soldiers following closely behind. Michael tried to appear composed like his father, but the sight of Alicia tied up like that, the bruises clear on her otherwise beautiful face, could only make him feel an unwelcoming mixture of panic and rage. And then Mira walked out, her head held high. She scowled at them.

"You have something that belongs to me," she said, her eyes trained sharply on Michael. "I want it back."

He knew immediately what this was. Mira had come for the box. She was angry with Michael, and this was his punishment. He wondered how long Mira had been planning something like this. It was effective, anyway. It took all of his strength to remain standing by his father's side when all he wanted to do was go over there and get Alicia back safely.

"Is that why you abducted my people?" asked Taylor.

"You want your people back, give me the box."

"This is not a negotiation," Taylor said fiercely.

"Dad," Michael said, failing to hide his desperation.

Taylor glanced at his boy, knowing that he was just as concerned for Wash as he was. But he couldn't hand over the box, not without knowing why it was so important to Mira. And he couldn't let her win so easily.

Mira mumbled something to one of her Sixer followers who in response handed her a gun. She then raised the weapon to Wash's head. Michael stepped forward, his heart racing, but Taylor held out his hand and pushed him back.

"Dad, _please_," he whispered, hoping his father would give in and allow Mira what she wanted. He watched Alicia, still standing tall, void of fear. She looked angry more than anything else. Michael hadn't expected anything different from her, but it didn't mean he wasn't feeling the panic for the both of them. At this point, he wasn't sure what Mira was capable of. She wanted that container badly. There was no way of knowing how far she would go to get it. "Dad," he said again, pleading with him.

"Get the box," he demanded, his gaze hardening. Mira lowered her weapon and smirked triumphantly. Michael felt like he could finally breathe again.

After a runner had retrieved the box, Michael was the one to take it up to her. His gaze was a mixture of concern for Wash, and disdain for Mira as he approached the gang of Sixers. He handed her the unusual box and she took it carefully in her grasp. "Thank you, Michael," she said, her conceited grin angering him even more.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to wipe that smug grin right off Mira's face. But what could he do with Alicia and Dunham standing right there and his father watching him not far behind? So he stood in silence, his cold glare doing most of the talking for him. Mira stared back at him for a moment, silently mocking him, knowing she had paid him back for those endless weeks of waiting for him to fulfil his task. She enjoyed the fact she was able to capture Lieutenant Washington and hurt, not one, but two Taylors in the process. As she had been telling Lucas from the start, it was all about leverage.

She nodded to her men and they cut Wash and Dunham free. Alicia pulled away immediately, shaking the pain from her arms. When Michael tried to escort her back, she batted him away and walked back by herself. She didn't speak to anyone, but the way she raised her hands whenever someone approached her seemed to communicate that she was fine and didn't need looking after. Michael turned back to Mira who had the box resting underneath her arm. This wouldn't be the last time they'd meet, he'd make sure of it. He couldn't let Mira get away with this. As if reading his mind, she gave him another sly smirk that seemed to say '_see you soon_', and then she ordered her people to leave.

In the Command Centre, Michael joined Wash, Jim Shannon, and his father in a meeting. Taylor was understandably concerned. As he rambled on about Mira and the Sixers and what could possibly be in the box, Michael found himself staring at Alicia who had nasty cuts and bruises along her jaw and forehead.

"_You okay?" _He mouthed to her.

She still looked angry. Angry at Mira for abducting her, angry at herself for letting her guard down, angry at Michael for asking stupid questions. But when she looked at him, she softened slightly and just turned her head away to concentrate on the conversation. Michael guessed she just wanted to move on and put the whole thing behind her. He wasn't so willing though. He was already forming scenarios in his head for when he and Mira met next. Abducting Alicia was the last straw. He wanted the Sixers to pay.

If there had been a more perfect time to tell the truth, this had been it. Mira had the container, their deal was broken, and she still had Skye's mother. Perhaps if Michael explained the situation, his father could gather up a rescue team and they could get Deborah back themselves. Maybe Taylor would even have mercy on his son if he came clean now.

But he couldn't. He opened his mouth to speak but no words surfaced and besides, Jim and his father were already deep in discussion about possible retaliations.

The plan was to simply just wait it out. See what happened. They did, after all, have other problems to worry about including the presence of the Sixer Spy and, in the coming weeks, a murder in the colony.

Michael was getting frustrated with interviewing the colonists about Foster's murder. He was getting nowhere with the investigation and his mind was more occupied on other things. He still hadn't met with Mira, and Wash had hardly spoken to him since the abduction. He had also discovered Boylan's bar had been the host of illegal gambling despite Michael warning him to shut it down weeks before. Regardless, this didn't deter him from protecting Tom when he was being accused of killing Foster. He may have been involved in some dirty dealings, but he would have never committed an act such as that. Michael knew him well enough to know he was innocent.

_The colony's first murder, _everybody kept saying. But that wasn't strictly true. Nobody else was aware of the fact that Michael was technically Terra Nova's first murderer…Nobody except Boylan, and he had kept the secret to himself out of loyalty to Michael. The young Corporal had to remind his father of this and after much persuasion, he let Boylan go.

Almost a week later, after Jim and Taylor managed to solve the Foster case, things had started to settle down again. Michael was allowed out on another supply run, accompanied by Dawson, one of the security officers. As they arrived at the outpost, Michael saw his chance. As soon as Dawson walked obliviously in to one of the chambers, Michael locked him in. When Dawson banged on the door for help, Michael claimed the door was stuck and that he would get help.

Instead, he took the rover and headed straight for the Sixer camp. By now he knew exactly where it was. He was still livid and he was ready to take out his frustration on any Sixer who got in his way.

"MIRA!" he yelled, shoving past wandering Sixers who stared at him, confused "COME OUT HERE."

He saw her peer out from her tree house, along with several others who pointed guns in his direction. He glared up at her. "We need to talk," he seethed.

"Let him up," she sighed and within minutes they were standing face to face. Guns were still aiming for him until Mira made the signal for her followers to lower them.

"You should never have taken Wash," he hissed furiously, his breaths still heavy.

"I had no choice," she said, uncaring. "We had run out of time."

"What do you mean? What's in that box that's so important?"

She stared at him for what seemed like ages, refusing to answer. "Control the past, control the future," she said mysteriously.

He looked bemused. Then he glanced towards the tent behind her. "I want to see Deborah. You have the box, now I want you to let her go."

Her expression darkened. "That wasn't the deal. You were supposed to get us the box in exchange, and you didn't. She stays."

"You can't do that!" he exclaimed, outraged.

"I can do whatever I want. You're just upset about your beloved Lieutenant," she scoffed, watching his eyes flame up at her words. "It's pathetic really, how helplessly in love with her you are." She seemed bitter now. "_Love_ doesn't do us any favours."

He was grinding his teeth together, frustrated, furious by what she was saying. Then he remembered the photograph he had brought in his jacket, and how it might work to his advantage. If Mira wanted to get personal then he had no problem with getting personal too. He removed the battered picture from his pocket, but only after being met with several guns pointing at him. Mira told her people to put them down again, and then he presented her with the photograph of the little girl.

"Is that what you told _her_?" he questioned, watching Mira's face fall, a sadness forming in her eyes.

"Where did you get that?" she snapped, trying to hide the pain in her voice.

"I found it in your house. She's important to you?"

She snatched the picture from his grasp, staring longingly at the little girl and her smiling face. "She's my kid," she said. "I had to leave her behind…"

"Then you know what it's like. To lose someone you care about. To be a mother without her child." He risked a step closer. "Deborah's innocent in all this. She's sick, she needs a doctor. She needs her daughter."

He could tell by Mira's expression that she wasn't sold. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head angrily. "That's different," she snapped.

Michael was losing patience. "There's a girl out there without her mother. You took her from her. She thinks she's dead. She deserves to know the truth. Please. It isn't fair."

"_Sometimes life isn't fair_," she announced through clenched teeth.

"Then I'll do anything," he pleaded with her, already forgetting the agony of the last few weeks. "I'll do another deal if you let her go. Anything you want."

"Forget it," she said. "You're useless to me. Besides, we have someone better."

Michael realised she was referring to the Sixer Spy. "And who might that be?"

"Girl's gotta have some secrets," she said infuriatingly, smirking at him.

It was worth a try. "Fine," he muttered. He glared at her, digging his nails in to his palms. He had obviously been wasting his time here. "Have it your way," he said. "But we _will_ find a way to defeat you. Send you grovelling back to us, make sure you never hurt anyone ever again." He was trying to be threatening but was disappointed to see Mira's smirk was as big as ever.

"You sound more like him every day," she commented, referring to his vengeful twin brother.

He stared at her, brows furrowing. "Who?"

Mira realised her mistake. She played it cool. "I think you should go."

Just like that? "What's stopping me from bringing an entire army with me next time?"

"_Oh please_," she scorned, crossing her arms over her chest. "You wouldn't dare. You wouldn't want daddy dearest to find out you've been dealing with the enemy all this time, to tarnish the good Taylor name! Tell me I'm wrong," she challenged.

Michael fell quiet. All his previous confidence had escaped him. She was absolutely right. That was why he hadn't told his father about all of this yet. Not because the opportunity hadn't been there, but because he couldn't stand to see his face once he discovered the truth. He simply couldn't bear to tell him. He hated himself for allowing this to get out of hand, for getting wound up in such a tangled web of lies and deceit. Before this, he had been his father's golden boy; he never lied to him, he never cheated him. Now he could hardly look him in the eyes. He detested this, he detested Mira. He wanted to go home. Not to Terra Nova. _Home _home.

It was a mistake coming here.

He tore away from Mira's lingering gaze and left, several pairs of smug Sixer eyes watching after him. He found his rover, jumped in and drove through the terrain. He had been stupidly impulsive coming here. What had he expected? Instead of satisfying his anger, he had humiliated himself and felt even worse than he had before. Nothing was resolved and it felt like it never would be. Unless he told the truth…but the thought filled him with dread. He would become the one thing he had always feared since he was a young boy; a disappointment.

He was only a couple of klicks away from Terra Nova when he suddenly remembered he had left Dawson at the outpost. He cursed under his breath, throwing the vehicle in to reverse when he noticed something strange.

There was something in the sky. Michael couldn't tell what it was at first, but it appeared to be on fire and it was heading towards him at great speed. He stared at it. A meteorite? It couldn't be. Could it? He had never seen such a sight. He was mesmerised. But it was too dangerous to stay here. He stamped his foot on to the accelerator.

He wasn't entirely sure what happened after that, but he remembered the ground shaking as the flaming rock made impact with the earth. And then came a blast so powerful that the entire vehicle lifted from the ground and went flying. Michael held on for his life, the world collapsing around him. There was a loud rumble and then a smash as the rover landed on its side, colliding against a tree. He wasn't aware until afterwards how hard he had smashed his head against the dashboard – he could smell his own blood as it trickled down his face. Everything hurt, but his head hurt the most. He could tell he was injured pretty badly. He tried to move but the pain of the slightest movement prevented him from doing so. Instead he let his wounded head rest against the steering wheel, feeling as though the world around him was fading out to black.

Then the jungle fell in to a blissful silence and the darkness engulfed him.

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: And the next one! Okay this was another one that had to be split in to two chapters 'cause I just had too much to fit in. Thank you so much for your reviews, hope you enjoy this one!**

Thick as Thieves Chapter 16

_Boom._

_The explosions were getting closer now, the ground rumbling beneath his aching feet. Michael couldn't breathe, the air so thick and polluted that each breath was like inhaling toxic gas. He could feel the poisonous smog circling through his lungs as the sound of gunshots and blasts echoed on the wind._

_Bang, bang, bang._

_People screaming, dying, killing. The uprising was out of control. He turned his face up to the sky, a sickly pale yellow, and wished hard for it to end. Someone was in front of him. Protecting him. He could never remember this part very well. For some reason, he could see images of Lieutenant Washington, sonic in hand, dashing madly from one place to the other, her hair flying, her eyes flaming. But he couldn't decide whether she had been real, or just another dream._

"_Michael." His father appeared beside him, placing his gun back in his holster, face covered in dirt. He had a rebreather in his hand and even though he was spluttering, he forced it on to Michael, allowing him to inhale the filtered air. He held it there for a moment until Michael nodded to him that he was okay._

_The entire conversation between them was hazy, but Michael remembered his father telling him to wait where he was. And the utter terror that followed. He had never wanted his dad to stay so badly in his life. He held on to his father's arm, not wanting him to leave him alone._

"_It's okay," he said, pushing Michael down behind some rocks. "Stay here. Don't move. Everything's going to be okay."_

_Of course it never was._

_He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the rebreather to his face, feeling his stomach twist in to knots. Angry shouts and fired bullets surrounded him. He thought he might throw up._

_He couldn't say exactly what had happened after his father left him there. All he remembered was cowering behind that rock like the frightened child he was, trembling, tears forcing their way through his tightly closed eyelids. More screaming. More gunshots. More devastation. It felt like hours before his family returned. Or what was left of it. Michael risked a peek over the rock where he saw his father carrying a screaming Lucas over his shoulder, sobbing breathlessly. Even their father, the bravest, toughest man either of them had ever known let a few helpless tears slide down his scraped cheeks. Dread filled Michael's heart._

_Their father set Lucas down, holding on to him tightly, cupping his hand behind his boy's head and letting him weep in to his shoulder. Michael asked where their mother was, trepidation leaking in to his voice at the answer. But he already knew. He felt his lip involuntarily start to quiver, his face scrunching up, the tears falling. He knew. She was never coming back. He felt himself being pulled in to his father's embrace, next to Lucas, the three of them sobbing, holding each other, knowing Ayani was gone forever. _

_Bang, bang, bang._

He awoke with a jolt, back in the jungle, back where he was supposed to be. He heard voices. No. Just one; female. It sounded distant, so Michael tried to move but he couldn't. The voice sounded closer, then he realised the owner had been right beside him all along. He could hardly keep his eyes open to see who it was.

"Michael, can you hear me? Please speak to me!"

He recognised her – she was blurry, but he knew her. Somehow. Her distorted figure shadowed over him and then her face hovered over his, coming in to focus.

Skye.

He tried to move again but he was met with excruciating pain. It was then he remembered what had happened, where he was, stuck in the overturned rover. Trying to speak was just as useless. He felt like he was still half-unconscious. Maybe he was paralysed. But no, he was able to move one arm and bring it up to the steering wheel. Plus, he could feel Skye's hands gliding over him, checking him for broken bones.

"I…ight…" he croaked, his throat dry and his head pounding. "I'm…alright," he tried again, despite his obvious injuries.

Skye was fading in and out. She said something he couldn't quite hear, then she was attempting to lift him and drag him out of the overturned vehicle. He cried in anguish. As much as his body pleaded with him not to, he pushed himself away from his seat, wincing with the effort. His body felt like an anchor. Skye grabbed his arms, pulling him out of the wreckage, trying not to hurt him too much. Michael tried to use his legs to push himself out on to the ground, but they felt weak and one felt almost completely numb. For a moment he wondered if he had lost the limb, but before he knew it he had managed to pull both legs out safely, collapsing on to his back on the soft jungle floor. Skye's worried face bent over him.

"Oh my Gosh," she said fearfully. "Look at you, this is bad. Can you tell me your name or something?" She ripped off her sleeve and fashioned a tourniquet around the wound on his head. She then ripped off the other one and tied it tightly around the deep gash in his right calf. "Or my name, anything! Do you know who you are?"

He just felt like blacking out, the pain too much for him to bear. "Taylor," he said groggily, his eyes only half open. "Michael Taylor. You're…mmm…" His breathing slowed, but he could still feel Skye's hands on him. They slid up to his cheeks.

"Michael?"

"Skye." He smiled faintly before drifting in to unconsciousness again.

He was dreaming again. He was sure of it, because he _knew_ his mother was dead and that he was dreaming whenever he saw her. Here she was, standing amongst the trees, watching him. He smiled faintly at her from where he lay. He dreamt of her often, ever since her death. But this time was different. His dreams were usually memories, ghostly re-enactments of the past; visions of her playing chess or reading her books or helping himself and Lucas with homework. Time just stood still. But he never dreamt of her being at Terra Nova, or being any time after her passing. Yet here she was.

She didn't say anything, but he was content with her presence, her comforting glow. She drifted through the trees, watching him, like a spirit. Was she willing him to stay alive? He heard her music playing in the distance, a haunting melody, each soft note lulling him in to a deeper sleep.

_Don't go_, he thought._ Don't leave._

But she was gone, and then there was nothingness.

When he awoke, his wounds had been cleaned, the blood no longer a horrific mess over his face and leg. He found himself propped up against a tree, bandaged up, facing Skye who sat across from him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him, moving closer to see how he was.

"Like I've just been hit by a meteor," he chuckled weakly before wincing at the pain. "What _was _that?"

"I'm not sure, but nothing seems to be working. Sonics, radios. Even if we could get the rover up and running again the circuits are completely fried."

"So we're on our own," Michael sighed, leaning his head back against the bark.

Skye didn't respond. Michael didn't look good – she knew if they stayed there he would most likely die before rescue got to them. He was pale, weak. The injury to his head had made him disorientated and he had lost a lot of blood from the cut in his leg. He needed urgent medical attention as soon as possible. Their only hope was to walk back to camp but she wasn't sure he would be up to that. She sensed that Michael, the usual up-beat optimist, was thinking the same thing.

"Listen," he said. "There's something you need to know in case something happens to me…"

She rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a drama queen!" She chastised, trying to ease his worry. "You're gonna be fine."

He inhaled sharply, grimacing. "I need to tell you this."

"What?"

"Your mother. She's alive. She's…with the Sixers."

She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I know," she said quietly.

Had he heard correctly? Or was his mind still playing tricks on him? He stared at her, confused. "What do you mean?" he questioned. "You know?"

Finally she looked back up to meet his gaze, and he could see that familiar sense of guilt in her eyes.

Of course.

How had he not seen it before? It was _her_ mother after all that the Sixers had taken, the mother of such a smart, independent and discrete young girl. No wonder the Sixers had selected her to be their spy. Realisation hit him almost as hard as the meteorite blast. His first response was that of utter betrayal. Then he remembered how much of a hypocrite he would have been to blame Skye for pretty much the same deeds he was guilty of. But suddenly it was all making sense. "You're the one who's been telling them everything. You told them how I feel about Alicia." Abducting Wash to spite him, to force him in to convincing his father to hand over the box - Mira must have been pretty certain of herself.

"I had no idea Mira would do what she did. I'm so sorry, please don't hate me."

The anger still burned inside him whenever he thought about Mira pressing that gun to Alicia's head. But he couldn't blame Skye for that. "It's okay. Mira manipulated us both. I just wish you had told me, I could have helped you deal with this."

"I couldn't bear to tell anyone," she admitted, frowning, a sadness gleaming in her blue eyes. "I didn't want anyone to think any less of me. If Taylor found out…"

"I know," he said understandingly. "You didn't want to let him down. Neither did I." He was silent for a beat, considering their next move. He knew what they had to do. It was what he had been fearing for months now. "We need to finish with the Sixers. We need to tell my father."

"I can't," she cried. "They'll take my mom away and I can't let them do that."

"We can ask for help."

"I won't risk it, Michael. Please don't ask me to. I haven't been giving away much, just enough to satisfy them and to keep my mom alive."

"You can't keep lying," he advised her.

"_You_ did."

"I was wrong."

"Taylor will never trust us again. He'll never look at us the same."

"I know," he almost snapped, thinking of all those weeks he had spent fearing the very same thing. "But it's the right thing to do."

"Remember when you told me about you and Lieutenant Washington? And you made me promise not to tell Taylor? I kept my promise. And even when I found out you were dealing with Mira I kept it quiet."

"This is not something you want hanging over you, Skye," he warned. "This is dangerous. Mira can't be trusted."

"Just…give me more time. _Please_. I can handle it."

She was being stubborn as ever, typical Skye, and he knew there would be no swaying of her decision. He understood her fears; he had felt the exact same way. But he knew he could face them if she would only stand with him so that they could face them together. But she had made her decision. And he wasn't in the mood to argue with her any more.

"Skye…"

"Yeah?"

He inhaled shakily, sweat dripping down his forehead. "I don't feel so good."

"Can you walk?"

"I can try."

She helped him to his feet, allowing him to lean on her as they limped together. But she was a lot shorter than Michael and she could see he was suffering with each step he took. However, he struggled on regardless, his right arm around her.

"We should try for the Falls," she suggested. "We can rest there. And we can get you some water."

"Okay," he agreed, wincing every time he took a step with his injured leg. Skye encouraged him, leading him onwards, holding him closer as she guided him. "I hated lying, you know. Hated it. I wanted to tell you more than anything about your mom. You have to believe that. It was agony."

"I do believe you." She gave him a reassuring squeeze. "You're a good guy. You were just doing what you thought was best, right?"

He almost snorted. "I'm not," he confessed. "I was a coward. I was afraid."

"It's okay to be afraid," she comforted. "It's part of being human."

* * *

><p>The sun felt hotter than ever, beating down on them from all angles. Michael was growing increasingly weaker and therefore their pace had slowed dramatically. Skye had hoped to be at the Falls by now but looking at Michael she feared he didn't have much life left in him. He was paler than a ghost, his makeshift bandages soaked through and his face and hair were drenched with sweat.<p>

He had been stumbling a lot more frequently too, suddenly losing balance every now and then, so Skye had to try to catch him despite him being much bigger than her. His eyes were also half-closed as if he were falling asleep, his breathing becoming more difficult, and she could feel him trembling against her.

"Skye," he said wearily. "I can't go any further." He stopped, reaching for a nearby tree to lean against. "Leave me here. I'll be okay."

"I'm not leaving you here," she snapped, grabbing his warm hands and pulling him onwards. "Come on. We're almost there."

"I can't. We'll never make it."

"That doesn't sound like you, does it?" She looked him in the eyes, searching for the shade of green in them. "You have to stay awake, Michael. And I'm not going anywhere. You don't give up on family, remember? Let's go."

_Family. _He smiled at that. He squeezed her hand in return and allowed her to lead him through the jungle. It wasn't too long before they heard the wonderful sound of rushing water in the distance.

"The Falls," she chirped. "Come on!"

She pulled him to a clearing and there was a sight most welcome: Snakehead Falls, it's clear blue water still sparkling and drifting serenely through the jungle. Michael recognised the spot where he had tried to convince Wash to swim with him. Looking up he could see the cliff where he and Skye had jumped together. And most important of all, he could see the symbols he had forgotten about. Skye wasn't supposed to see them, but she never brought them up. It was as if she already knew.

Skye sat Michael down in the shade, retrieved her empty flask from her pack and ran to collect some of the water. First she let him take a few good sips to ease the dryness in his throat. Then she poured some over his wounds to wash away the blood and hopefully cool him down. He was half-asleep by the time Skye had replaced his bandages using the material from her overshirt.

"Michael, stay awake," she ordered.

"Mmm," he said.

She hit him playfully in the shoulder. "Stay awake, sleepyhead!"

He winced and opened his tired eyes. The light in them was dim, the jade not as bright as usual.

"Listen to me," she said, looking him directly in the eyes. "Do not fall asleep or you might not wake up. I changed your bandage but it doesn't look good. I'm afraid it might have gotten infected or something."

"You should get a job in the infirmary," he smirked weakly. "Be one of those bossy doctors."

She punched him again, lighter this time. "Having patients like you would require a lot of bossiness," she teased.

"I'm trying…" he whispered before lulling his head back again.

"Michael!" she yelled at him, holding his face in her hands. "Alright, listen: you can't fall asleep, okay?" she said frantically. "Apart from my mom, you and Taylor are the only family I have left and I can't lose you. Do you understand? Don't you dare fall asleep or I will hate you forever."

His eyes still closed, his breathing light, he barely reacted.

"I'm going to get help. Stay here. Promise me you'll stay awake."

"Mmm," he mumbled.

"Promise," she demanded.

"I promise," he said in such a small voice she hardly heard it. She doubted he'd even registered her leave.

Skye tore through the bushes, shouting for help. She wasn't far from Terra Nova, there must be people looking for them somewhere. As luck would have it, she stumbled across Guzman and Dawson in a live rover. It turned out after the incident at the Outpost, they were already looking for Michael. Skye was more than happy to show them where he was. But when they found him, he had broken his promise. His body was slumped on the ground, unmoving.

Skye leapt out of the vehicle and knelt by his side, demanding him to wake up. Tears spilled from her blue eyes but he didn't stir. She couldn't go through this all again. Not with him.

The soldiers lifted him in to the back of the rover and Guzman tried to drive back to Terra Nova as fast as he possibly could. He was silent the entire trip, and so pale Skye feared he was already gone. She held her fingers to his neck and was relieved to feel the faint thumping sensation that meant he was still alive.

"_Come on_," she whispered to him, taking his hand in hers. "_Don't give up now._ _Please_."

Squeezing his hand tightly, she bent her face down close to his and kissed him gently on the side of his mouth.

"_Don't give up_," she said.

But she feared the fight was already lost.

_**TBC.**_


	17. Chapter 17

Thick as Thieves Chapter 17

Somewhere in the jungle, the Sixers were gathering together, grabbing whatever weapons they could find as they piled in to the rovers. Amidst the mob, Mira and Carter made their way down from the treehouse, noticing an unwelcome guest emerge through the bushes.

"Lucas," Mira said as they arrived at ground level. She seemed surprised to see him. "You're back."

Lucas didn't acknowledge her or even bother replying. He was agitated. The shadows on his face illuminated his green eyes as he looked towards the group of Sixers making off through the trees. "Going somewhere?"

Mira glanced back as the rovers disappeared from sight, the excited laughs and hollers from the Sixers gradually fading away in to the distance. "Power's out at Terra Nova. Thought we may as well take the opportunity to grab some more supplies while we still can."

"What are you doing here?" Carter interjected, raising his eyebrow suspiciously at Lucas.

Lucas shot him a dirty look, years of turmoil and hatred gleaming in his eyes. "You need to do something for me."

"We already got you the box," Carter argued.

"You were sent here to serve me; I need something else," Lucas snapped.

Mira narrowed her eyes at him. "Like what?"

"I need someone to take this to The Eye at Terra Nova," he pulled out a small device that looked as though it could be plugged in to a computer.

"Easy," Mira scoffed. "I'll ask your brother. He's been begging me for something he can do."

"No," he said sternly. "Not Michael. He's smarter than he lets on – he'll figure it all out and go running to our father, especially if his precious home is under thread," he added bitterly. "No, get me the girl. I want to see her."

"Skye?" questioned Mira unsurely. "I don't know, Lucas. If she gets caught…"

"She seems smart," said Lucas. "I've seen her in the jungle sometimes. And nobody will suspect her."

"And how can you be sure she'll do it?" Carter asked, unconvinced.

"She'll do it," he replied, smiling confidently. "I'll…persuade her. You still have your _guest_, don't you?"

"Yes," answered Mira. "Deborah Tate."

"I think it's time I met Deborah Tate," smirked Lucas, a plan already forming in his mind.

* * *

><p>With the rover, it didn't take long to get back to Terra Nova. Dawson and Guzman carried Michael in to the busy infirmary, Skye following close behind. He was still out cold, seemingly smaller than ever before. His hand felt like ice in hers. She could see Elizabeth amongst the rabble of injured, tending to a dislocated arm.<p>

"Doctor Shannon!" she called.

Elizabeth got the men to set him down on a bed immediately. She asked Skye what happened and she did her best to explain.

"Looks like we've got a nasty head injury but without the power on I can't do a scan to check its severity – Michael, can you hear me?" she said, opening his eyelids to check his response. Nothing. "He's having difficulty breathing," she explained, noticing his shallow breaths, the way his chest struggled to rise and fall. Skye was trying to listen but the infirmary was filled with people – nurses and patients – all talking and moving at the same time. Doctor Shannon checked his injuries, removing the bandages to reveal Michael's bloody wounds. Her look of concerned increased. "It doesn't look good." Skye bit her lip nervously. "Skye – get over to Boylan's, will you? Ask for the chip he's repairing for the biobed."

She looked panicked, but nodded and ran as fast as she could towards the door. When she returned with the chip, Boylan was with her. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Is he alright?"

"Head trauma," Elizabeth said, taking the chip from Boylan's possession. "From the blast. With this I'll be able to help him a lot better."

Once the bed was up and running, Elizabeth pulled up a screen. She was able to run her tests within moments. In the end she concluded that there wasn't much else she could do except clean up his wounds and hope for the best.

"That doesn't sound too hopeful, doc," mumbled Boylan who was peering over her shoulder. "Will the kid be okay or not?" He didn't really relish the idea of holding yet another funeral.

Doctor Shannon smiled comfortingly at him. "The bed is monitoring his vitals. He's stable for now. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Taylor and Lieutenant Washington don't know," Skye said, her tired eyes fixed on Michael's unmoving form. "Someone should tell them."

"I'll do it," offered Boylan. "You keep an eye on this one," he said to Skye, nodding his head towards Michael. His concerned gaze lingered on him a moment more before he left.

"I'll be nearby," Elizabeth told her, squeezing her arm gently before tending to her other patients.

Skye tried to hold back her tears as she approached the bed, observing Michael's still frame. She took his hand again, squeezing it, wishing he'd squeeze back. This was all wrong. He was no longer the strong and energetic soldier who had welcomed her to this new world when she was younger, who had comforted her when she had lost everything, who had jumped off that waterfall with her. He was no longer the big hero he had always been in her eyes, the handsome young man she had kissed at the Falls, not even the lively boy who'd laughed at her and made jokes. He was just a shell; a battered, withering old shell,fading away. She closed her eyes and wished for him to come back.

* * *

><p>"<em>Concentrate. Focus on the gun in your hands. Feel the weight of it, the power of it. Let your finger hover over the trigger, poised, ready. Look your enemies in the eye, take aim. Fire."<em>

"_Bang," Michael said. He looked over at his father who was looking young and happy, smiling at his son's eagerness as he patted him supportively on the back._

"_Looks like you've got the hang of it, kiddo."_

"_He's thirteen," his mother's voice called over from the living room. Michael looked over at her, sitting at the table, her brown curls flowing over her shoulders, her pretty face ruined with a frown. She was with Lucas. "He shouldn't be playing with guns."_

"_They're going to have to learn if they want to be military men," Nathaniel argued. "Come on, Lucas. You're next."_

_Lucas looked over at his mother, his round eyes full of innocence, full of worry. _

"_He doesn't want to," Ayani replied, placing a hand over her son's. "He's telling me about his studies. Aren't you, sweetheart?" She smiled saccharinely at her young boy. Lucas smiled back at her, at ease once again._

"_School is boring," moaned Michael, confused as to how his brother could be immersed in such menial things. "I can't wait to join the military."_

"_That's my boy," Nathaniel hollered, squeezing Michael's shoulder. "I was the same at your age. I have so much to teach you."_

_Lucas frowned. Ayani clutched his hand in hers, smiling warmly at him. _

_Michael continued playing with the gun, pretending to shoot bad guys. He cheered at his own pretend victories. "I'm going to be a hero," he announced. "Just like dad."_

_He heard unsettling laughter behind him, and then silence; stillness. A cold chill passed through him. He whipped round to see the seat where his mother had been was empty._

"_Where's mom?" he asked, fear dripping in to his voice. He felt his hairs stand on end. The silence seemed to grow until he felt a fuzziness in his ears. No answer. The house, too, was empty, a darkness resonating within, the shadows approaching him. He felt a force push him downwards, the weight of it crushing him, pushing him to the ground. Michael raised the gun, trembling, feeling tears start to brim in his eyes. It's okay, he told himself, the terror building up within him, making his insides twist and tighten. He could scarcely breathe. The house creaked, beginning to crumble. His limbs began to ache and burn with pain. He closed his eyes shut. You'll be okay, he thought to himself._

_No. You won't._

_When he opened them, he saw Lucas sitting at the table, a full grown man. Stronger. Angrier. He had his own music too; childish like a lullaby, yet ugly and destructive. He was hunched over. No longer innocent. No longer scared. He turned his head slowly towards his brother, his eyes hollow, boring in to him, twinkling in the darkness._

"_I think I'd like a turn with the gun now," he said._

* * *

><p>Evening was fast approaching; the atmosphere in the infirmary was a lot calmer now, but Michael's fever was getting worse. Skye was wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead when Lieutenant Washington rushed in.<p>

"How is he?" she asked, her voice full of concern as she took up a space on the other side of Michael. "I got here as soon as I could."

"Where's Taylor?" Skye asked, looking back as if he were about to walk in right behind the Lieutenant.

"He's tied up with some things. He'll be here soon." Wash couldn't tear her eyes away from Michael. He looked so…_small_, so vulnerable. She had never seen him like this before. It disturbed her to see someone she cared about so much in such a bad way. Her hand lingered above his, but she hesitated. Oh. She wasn't supposed to care this much, was she? Nobody was supposed to know how much she really cared. Was it appropriate to hold hands with him, to sit with him until he awoke, with the man she had known since he was a young boy? Could she cry? Could she kiss his lips and hold him, wishing for him to wake up so that he could kiss her back?

"It's okay, I know how you feel about him," Skye whispered, noticing her hesitance. Wash looked over at the young girl, stunned. "I won't tell anyone. If you want to be with him, I can go."

Wash looked back over at Michael, listening to the various beeps and noises from the biobed, reminding her that he was still alive, still fighting. "I have to go," she said, sucking in a deep breath, dashing back towards the door. Skye watched, open-mouthed, but before she could say anything the Lieutenant was gone.

She hadn't intended to run in to Boylan again who, noticing her distress, offered her a drink back at the bar. After some arm twisting, she finally accepted and found herself eventually on her third cup.

"Feeling any better?" he asked the Lieutenant from behind the bar, seeming genuinely concerned.

"Why do you care?" she spat, remembering all the times she and Taylor had fallen out with the cheating barman.

"I know you care about Michael," he said. "I know you have a history."

"He told you too?" she asked, outraged. Michael should count himself lucky he's already out cold, she thought angrily.

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone."

"And why not? I would have thought you'd be the first in line to tell Taylor about what was going on behind his back."

"Don't get me wrong," Boylan smirked. "It would have made my day to see Taylor's face when he found out, but I wouldn't have done that to Michael…I treat that boy as if he were my own. So believe me, I know what you must be feeling."

"Do you?" she snapped. "Do you also know how _wrong_ all of this is? He's still just a kid. _He's Taylor's son_. I'm the worst thing for him right now." She raised the cup to her lips again.

"I'll tell you what I think. I think you've made an impression on him since he was eighteen years old. I think he loved you – still does – and nothing would comfort him more than seeing your face by his bedside when he wakes up."

"This isn't some fairy tale," she scorned. "You don't understand. We can't be together."

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying if you care about him at all, you'll be there for him."

Wash didn't say anything. He would never truly understand how she felt, but he was right. She had to be there for him. She had to let herself feel what she was afraid of feeling. She had to be strong. For Michael.

"Now are you gonna put that cup down or am I gonna have to throw you out?" Boylan said, turning his back on her. "I'm sick of being everybody's bloody agony aunt all of a sudden."

She was gone by the time he turned back around.

* * *

><p><em>Lucas was climbing that tree again. Serious Lucas, angry Lucas, grumbling the entire time. About dad, about Terra Nova.<em>

"_Lucas," Michael called from down below. "Get down. You'll hurt yourself."_

"_Now you care," he heard his brother scoff as he climbed higher and higher._

_Michael heard Carnos in the distance. "Lucas," he said, "you'll make dad angry."_

"_Good, let him get angry. I want to climb to the top. I want to see what's up there. Aren't you sick of walking around in the mud all the time, of doing whatever he tells you to?"_

_The wind whipped through the branches, causing Lucas to sway dangerously from side to side. _

"_You're gonna fall," Michael said._

"_Don't be so concerned, brother. You can't fall if you've already fallen. Besides, it wouldn't hurt so badly. It might be good to fall…"_

_The breeze was becoming more ferocious now, tearing past his ears so he could hardly hear what Lucas was saying. Michael turned his head towards the sky, seeing it turn that familiar hue of orange. The air turned thick and putrid. _

"_It's magnificent really," Lucas called down again, and when Michael looked his way he saw that he was holding Mira's box, "What humans are capable of…We have abilities beyond our recognition." He ran his fingers along the curves of the container, feeling every crevice along its hard surface, holding it as if it were some cherished possession. "It's all about control with these people," he said mirthlessly. "Control the past…"_

"_Control the future," Michael finished. _

_The mountains in the distance echoed with a blast, the ground rumbling. Uprooted bushes and trees shot up in to the air with a deafening roar, the world falling down around them. As Michael raised his leg on to the tree trunk to climb, he thought he saw Lucas jump._

* * *

><p>His eyes opened gently to what seemed to be a blurry ceiling, the nightmares becoming mere memories. He had to fight to keep his eyelids open, his body willing him to sleep again, his mind too drowsy to make any sense of it. All he knew was that he was alive.<p>

"Michael," a voice said beside him. He turned his stiff neck in to the direction of the speaker and saw a blurred Lieutenant Washington sitting next to him, a worried smile etching on to her face. "You're awake."

He could hardly speak. It was almost as if he had forgotten how to talk. But he raised his head slightly, offering her a weak smile so she knew that he was pleased to see her. It was when he saw the doctors and nurses bustling about behind her that he remembered the meteorite blast, the blow to the head, his leg. Then he felt it; the pain.

"Heard you were in a nasty accident," Wash said, noticing him wincing. "You must have a pretty bad headache."

"Understatement," he croaked. "How long have I -?"

"All night," she replied. "It's morning now. Power's back on, finally."

He tried to sit up, then groaned at the inevitable pain that followed. "Where's Skye?"

"She's fine. She sat with you for hours. She was really worried about you, Michael."

"Remind me to apologise. Next time I'm in a meteor blast, I'll try not to hit my head so hard."

She rolled her eyes at him, smirking. Then she allowed her gaze to fall upon his, felt the utter relief that came from staring at his smiling face and let her hand slide inside his hand.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispered.

It was a perfect moment, but short-lived as the Commander suddenly made his way in to the infirmary, followed by one of his soldiers. He stopped at the end of the bed, standing tall, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

"Michael, I'm relieved to see you're okay," he announced. "You had us all worried."

"I'm fine, dad," he insisted, suddenly feeling the absence of Alicia's hand in his. "Just a little bruised."

The Commander nodded, then his eyes met with the Lieutenant's. "Wash, would you give us a moment?"

"Yessir," she said, looking back at Michael. She gave him a reassuring nod and he smiled at her as he watched her head for the door.

"Michael, when you're feeling better we need to talk about why you left Dawson at the Outpost."

Michael turned his head to look at him. He felt his palms begin to sweat. "The door jammed. I was getting help."

"I'm afraid I don't believe you," his father said, his words like a knife to his throat. "Skye said you went to meet with her, but I'm not sure I believe her either."

It was then Michael noticed Skye herself at the door – watching – an intensity in her blue eyes. She shook her head fearfully. He understood her anxiety, he had felt it himself for so long. He had been afraid too. He still was, of how his father would react, of how everyone would treat him. This honest military son's image would be shattered. And Skye felt the same about her own reputation. Nobody could know. But his father was staring at him, coaxing him in to telling the truth.

"Dad, please," he urged. "I can't say."

"You will. Later, when we can talk properly. You're going to tell me everything."

"I can't. You don't understand," Michael frowned.

"Then you will help me understand," he said coldly. "You've been lying to me and I want to know why."

There was that look. Michael couldn't stand it. He couldn't bear to look in to those frosty eyes. Taylor began to walk towards the door and Skye quickly made herself scarce. "Rest," he said. "We'll talk when you're feeling better. In the meantime, someone will be watching you." He nodded to a guard who took up a position by Michael's bedside. He suddenly felt like a prisoner, like the enemy.

"Please, dad, listen to me. You don't have to do this."

Taylor didn't reply. He shook his head, then, before turning his back on him, mumbled those dreaded words:

"I'm so disappointed in you, son."

It was ten times worse than any meteorite blast. Feeling as though daggers had pierced his heart, his chest swelling fast, Michael wished he had never woken up.

**TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

Thick as Thieves chapter 18

A week had passed since the accident. An entire week of waiting and worrying and wondering what his fate would hold after being locked in that room with his father. Would he be punished? Exiled? His father was a secretive man; even when Michael was allowed to leave the infirmary and rest at home, the Commander didn't give away anything as to what their meeting would involve. He was, however, adamant that the issue be resolved as soon as Michael was well again. Today was that day.

The accident had left permanent scarring on both his calf and head, but other than that the wounds had healed nicely and Doctor Shannon had been pleased with his progress. There didn't seem to be any lasting brain damage, but Michael did notice he was more prone to headaches than usual. He was on crutches for now, still finding it a struggle to walk on his injured leg. Skye went on walks with him around the market (accompanied by a guard of course) to help him get strong again. She would casually bring up Michael's debriefing to which he would sigh and promise her that he wouldn't tell them about Deborah or her arrangement with the Sixers. Not yet anyway. Then he'd remind her of the danger she was in, asking her to reconsider.

"I can handle it," she told him. "I won't let it get too far. They trust me for now; I can use that to my advantage."

She was brave. Probably braver than Michael who had been dreading what he was going to say in this interview with his father. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed smartly in his combats, his hair combed back neatly. He wanted to look respectable. But the tired eyes that stared back at him told a different story.

A knock at the door. "It's time," came a voice. Michael sighed, grabbed his crutch and limped out of the bathroom.

Escorted by two armed men, Michael supposed it was inevitable they'd get a few head-turns from his fellow colonists. Rumours were already circulating throughout the colony. Everyone was thinking the same thing. The Corporal noticed Skye with Tasha by the market and he caught her worried gaze. Calmly, he gave her a nod and a smile as if to say: _don't worry_.

* * *

><p>"Sorry about the formalities, Michael, but I have to treat you like any other suspect," apologised the Commander, standing above him. Michael nodded at him from his chair, surprisingly at ease. Maybe he was just happy that this was finally out in the open. Not even the dim lights of the Brig or the armed guards by the door seemed to bother him that much.<p>

When he looked at his father, however, hovering over him, watching him with those frosty eyes, all he could see was the reason he and Wash couldn't be together, the reason Lucas was gone. The reason his mother was dead. Then he realised, he wasn't calm. He was angry. Angry and exhausted.

"You obviously know why you're here," declared the Commander. "We just want to know the truth."

"Why don't we just say it?" snapped Michael, surprising his father with his forwardness, with his lack of respect. "You think I'm the Sixer Spy. Have done for ages."

His father narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you?" he asked.

"No," Michael said. "That's the truth."

There was a brief pause. The Commander continued, unconvinced. "Explain to me what you were doing when the meteor hit. And don't lie to me again."

Michael closed his eyes, feeling the onset of one of his headaches. "I can't…" was all he said.

"You can't _what_? Tell me the truth? Why not? Who are you protecting? The Sixers?"

"No!" he exclaimed, his eyes snapping open again. "I know you don't believe me, but I am _not _spying for them. I swear."

The Commander looked at him with the same level of suspicion he had once looked at his other son. "I _will_ find out if you're lying," he threatened. "And when I do…"

"You'll what? Cast me out like Lucas?" Michael said hatefully, years of bitterness over Lucas' absence resurfacing in that one moment.

"If I have to," Taylor replied. "Anything to keep this colony safe."

Michael frowned. "And do you really think I'm a threat? That I'm capable of what Lucas did?" he questioned.

"I don't know _what_ you're capable of anymore," his father told him. "It's clear to me that you've been lying for a long time now. I just want some damn answers."

"Commander," a soldier interrupted from behind. "Tom Boylan's asking for you. He says it's urgent."

Michael watched as his father huffed with annoyance. "Alright. I'll be up in a minute." The soldier retreated out the door whilst Taylor addressed his son again. "This isn't over," he said. "I'll be back soon, and you better start talking. Just because you're my son doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you."

"I know," Michael replied, traces of resentment in his voice. He watched his father head slowly for the door, knowing he'd be back for round two soon enough.

"Alright, Boylan, what's this all about? I was in the middle on an interrogation," announced Taylor as he entered the Command Centre. Boylan was standing over in the corner, waiting. Corporal Reynolds was watching over him.

"I'm here to talk to you about Michael," Boylan said. "None of this is his fault. It's mine."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Taylor questioned, losing patience.

"When the meteor hit…Michael _was_ meeting with Mira, but only because I asked him to," the barman lied. All his gambling skills were coming in to play as he put on his best poker face. He was a natural. And, unlike Michael, he had no problem with lying to the Commander. Especially if it was to help out a friend. "He's been making deals with the Sixers for me. Y'know, trading meds and power cells for wild sorghum, stuff like that."

"You put him up to this?" Taylor seemed outraged.

"Look, he was just doing me a favour. Don't punish him for that."

"I should have known you'd be involved, Boylan," The Commander said furiously. "All that time you've been spending with _my_ son. All the secrets. I just thought he would have been smarter than that. Smarter than to follow the ill guidance of a lying, cheating sewer rat like you."

"You flatter me, Taylor," Boylan said.

"One thing doesn't make sense to me though," mused the Commander, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Why are you telling me this? You could have just let Michael take the fall."

Boylan shrugged. "He's a good lad. He doesn't deserve all this. He was just helpin' me out." He paused, narrowing his eyes at the Commander. "Like that time I helped _you_ out." His expression darkened. "_Remember_, Taylor?"

Taylor knew he was talking about Phillbrick. His jaw stiffened, his hatred for the man growing. "Corporal," he said to Mark, still glaring at Tom. "Take Boylan to the Brig and bring Michael up to me." He neared that smug face, that sickly smirk. "I'll deal with you later, Boylan," he threatened.

"I'll look forward to it," grinned Tom infuriatingly as he was led towards the door.

* * *

><p>"Why did you arrest Tom?" was the first question Michael asked as he hobbled through the door with his crutch, escorted by Reynolds. Boylan had nothing to do with this. Was his father just arresting everybody he was suspicious of?<p>

Taylor looked over at him from the window and crossed his arms over his chest, exhaling a heavy sigh. He could sense Michael's concern for the barman, saw the anxious look in his eyes. This only frustrated him further. Michael seemed to care deeply for Boylan, maybe even looked up to him in a way. How could he have let this happen? How could he let his son get so close to that treacherous fool?

"He told me everything," Taylor said

"What? He told you about the deal?"

"He told me about all of them."

"All of them?"

Taylor dismissed Reynolds and told Michael to sit down. "This is serious, Michael. Trading with the Sixers? What were you thinking?" Michael stared at him with bewilderment, wondering what his father was talking about. Then he started to wonder exactly what Boylan had been saying to him. "At first I didn't believe it, but…I have come to realise you and Boylan have a relationship. He's a bad influence on you. And as you've already demonstrated with Skye, you're easily influenced." A pause and a hard stare. "I've taken him in for questioning. Now you are both going to tell me everything you know about the Sixers."

"I…I don't…" Michael stammered, unsure of how to continue. Then he gave a defeated smile and shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"Where's their camp?"

"They move from time to time," he said, knowing that if he told the Commander about the Sixer's hideout in the canopy, his father wouldn't rest until he made Michael track them down. "They're probably on their way to elsewhere as we speak…real spy's most likely already told them about this."

"Well since you've spent so much time with the Sixers, you'll know who this _real_ spy is. Right?"

"I never saw them," Michael said, feeling an unbearable scratching sensation in his throat. "_I don't know_. Mira was very secretive about that…"

Taylor studied his son closely, watched the way his breathing increased, how his palms were beginning to sweat. But his gaze was so hard, so steady, he was almost convincing.

"I think you're hiding something from me."

"Dad…"

"I still think you're in with the Sixers much deeper than just trading with them. You're not an errand boy. They'd want you for something much more important." He could sense his son starting to lose confidence. "I think Mira asked you to get the box from her house. And I think you agreed to do it, but you got caught. So then Mira brought out the big guns, captured Wash, threatened to kill her, and you couldn't let that lie. You had to confront her about it, so you went to see her." He neared Michael, gazes locked, staring each other down. "The real question is: _why_? Why agree to it in the first place?"

"You really want to know?" Michael asked, feeling his anger start to rise again.

"Enlighten me, son," the Commander snarled. "Because this is unacceptable."

Michael closed his eyelids, preparing himself, ready to tell the truth even if it couldn't be all of it. "It's true. I was stealing the box for Mira. And I got caught, so I lied." When he opened his eyes, he wasn't quite prepared after all, for the betrayal in his father's expression was becoming more evident the more he went on.

"Why?" Taylor repeated, outraged. "What possible excuse could you have for dealing with those traitors?"

He swallowed. "I owed Mira a favour."

"What kind of favour?"

Michael sighed and at last broke the cold stare between the two, choosing to focus on the cracks of the floor rather than watch his father's angry gaze any longer. "She saved Alicia's life."

"_Wash_?" he almost whispered. "What are you talking about?"

Michael pressed his lips together, hesitating, thinking about Alicia dying, how he sat by her bedside and wished for a miracle. A miracle only Mira had. "The Syncillic Fever outbreak a few years back…" he said slowly, wringing his hands together. "When Alicia was sick…Mira had medicine."

"She _what_?" Taylor fumed. "And you didn't think to report this to me?"

"I couldn't…I had to make a deal with her. To save Alicia."

His father stepped back slowly, the information processing. "You promised to get her the box in exchange for the medicine," he concluded. "This was irresponsible," he chastised. "You should have told me."

"I know," Michael admitted, glancing back down at his hands. "But I was desperate."

"You two should never have happened," Taylor remarked. "Look at the mess we're in now."

"Well, I'm glad we did. Even without your approval, I still would have done it and nothing would have stopped me saving her life."

"There are rules in place for a purpose, Michael. A code of honour. You both knew that."

"I did know." Michael glanced up at his father, shaking his head. "I just didn't care."

"When I recruited you, I had an expectation that you would respect the rules we have here. To respect _me_. I guess I expected too much of you. You _and_ your brother."

He couldn't take much more of this. "Look, I can't speak for Lucas, but I couldn't help it. You can't help who you fall in love with. I would have done anything to save her life and nothing you could have said or done would have stopped me."

His father quietened then, seeming less angry than before. Perhaps he hadn't been aware of how deeply Michael felt for his beloved lieutenant. "Okay," he said. "But I still think you're hiding something from me. Something important."

Michael said nothing.

"You're going to tell me," Taylor threatened. "You don't have a choice."

"I've told you everything."

"Why should I believe you?" growled Taylor. "You've had direct contact with them for all this time. Is there really nothing useful you can tell me? Why are you protecting them?"

"I'm not!"

"Then why can't you tell me who the spy is? Or maybe it _is_ you. I mean, why not? You're the Commander's son, you're a Corporal. You can get access to anywhere, anytime. You know all Terra Nova's secrets. You could have told them anything."

"I didn't," Michael insisted, resentment in his voice. The fact his father even considered these things were possible gave him a searing pain in his chest.

"That so?"

"I am not the Sixer Spy. You're gonna have to believe me."

"You've been lying to me from the start, Michael," his father said fiercely, seething with anger and betrayal. "About Wash, about all of this. Why should I believe you now?"

"I'm your _son_," Michael pleaded, trying to hide the choking feeling he felt rising in his throat.

"Do you think that mattered to Lucas when he held that gun to my head? When he tried to get me killed?" his father bellowed, instantly forgetting the secrecy of that night in his blind fury.

"Please," Michael said. He could hardly bare it.

"I didn't want any of this! I didn't want my own children to betray me, to turn their backs on me, _their own father_!" Taylor's face was red now, furious, his teeth baring. How could he have raised such careless, disloyal sons? How had he not seen that Michael would stray down the same path as his brother?

"I'm _not_ Lucas!" cried Michael at the top of his lungs, enraged, devastated by the accusations. He felt destroyed. He had never hated his father more. There were many times where he had been confused with Lucas, but this was the worst of all. Hearing these things – _these insults_ – shattered the reputation he had spent his entire life trying to build, and from the lips of his own father – he felt annihilated. "I never wanted to betray you, I only ever wanted to make you proud. I'm not turning my back on you or this colony – this is my home. I'm not lying. I'm not the spy. Please, dad. I'm asking you to trust me."

Those ice-cold eyes settled on him, scowling, thinking. For a brief moment Michael thought that his father may believe him after all. But he shook his head, his voice low and serious. "You've run out of trust," he said coldly, and then the interview was over. For now.

Michael was taken to Pod Zero where he spent the night alone. His father wasn't done questioning him yet. Now Michael had started talking he wouldn't be released until he told him everything. He'd keep at it until he was satisfied that Michael wasn't the spy. And who knew what he was planning to do with Boylan?

He thought of Skye and her secret, how he had kept his promise so far. He wondered if she was okay out there, whether she was worried about him or whether she was reporting back to the Sixers. Either way he wished that he could talk to her.

Skye, in fact, was on her way to the Sixer camp that same night. She wasn't planning on telling them about Michael's arrest, but she could tell them about Boylan. Maybe that would satisfy them for the time being. Then maybe they'd allow her mother her dose of medicine before she got too weak again. When she met with Mira, however, she didn't seem interested at all in hearing about Boylan's detainment.

"Go see your mother," she mumbled. "There's someone with her who wants to meet you."

Skye was bewildered by the comment, but Mira wouldn't answer any more of her questions so she went to find her mother.

She was right where she left her and, surprisingly, she looked good. She was sat up in bed, there was a bit more colour in her cheeks, and she was _smiling_. Then Skye noticed the person with her. She froze.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her throat running dry. He was sat in the shadows, his back facing her, almost like he was hiding. It was strange. She didn't know what it was but the figure looked familiar. When he finally turned around, Skye couldn't believe it. As she looked in to the stranger's eyes, it was almost surreal.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me," he said, offering a smile that sent chills shooting down her spine. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucas."

**TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

**First thing's first, check out this AU fic by doctor anthony: New Beginnings and Reunions (Sorry I kept forgetting to rec!). As for _Thick as Thieves, _I'd like to thank everyone that's still here! As you've probably noticed we're nearing the end of the series so I'm anticipating that this will be finished soon, although the finale will more than likely take up quite a few chapters so I'll be around for at least a little while longer! I'm not sure I'll be continuing this with an AU season two since that would be pretty difficult for me. I plan to set up for S2 though and if I ever feel like picking it up again it'll still be here for me :) Anyway on to the chapter... **

Thick as Thieves chapter 19

At first glance the resemblance was uncanny. For a split second she could have sworn she was looking at Michael. They were strikingly similar in height and facial features, and the eyes especially were identical. But as she looked closer, she began to see the differences. For one thing, Lucas was more tanned and muscled, his years out in the jungle sculpting him, making him stronger, tougher. He had deep scars protruding from behind his ear to the back of his neck that whenever she glanced at she couldn't help but cringe. His hair was spiky and untamed, his clothes in rags and his skin covered in dirt. The eyes were the same jade green, but they gleamed with an unquenchable hatred, a darkness, not the kind pleasantness that Michael's had. It sparked fear within her and her mouth ran dry as she stared at him, disbelief still in her blue eyes.

"Lucas _Taylor_," she whispered, as if saying the name aloud would help her get to grips with the situation a little better.

"That's right." His voice was low and smooth and as he stepped closer he gave her another one of those chilling smiles. "The honour's all mine. You must be Skye. I believe you know my brother."

"You look just like him," she said without thinking, her eyes still wide, refusing to blink.

"I hear that's pretty common with twins," Lucas chuckled before glancing down at the wooden floor below, and then he briefly looked even more like Michael with that bashful smile.

"You're supposed to be missing."

He raised his head. "Well, it looks like you found me." When he grinned at her, she couldn't help shuddering. There was something about Lucas Taylor, something that made her fear for her life. She didn't feel safe with him like she did with Michael. Despite the obvious physical appearance, she almost couldn't believe that they were related.

She closed her eyes, remembering Michael. Remembering how much he had missed his brother. "Do you realise Michael's been looking for you? He's been worried out of his mind."

"Oh, of course," Lucas said, bitterness in his voice as he began to circle her, scratching at his bristled face. There was something about the way he walked, about the way he dragged himself from one place to the other…"How is the Corporal nowadays? Have he and my father managed to walk on water yet?"

Skye stared at him and she thought that perhaps Michael hadn't been completely truthful with her about his relationship with Lucas, that perhaps things hadn't been so straightforward after all, because she was beginning to realise that Lucas wasn't very fond of his brother _or_ his father. She remembered Michael saying something about an argument and then she pondered on how serious that argument could have been. She tried desperately to remember if he had mentioned what it had been about.

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

"I came to visit your mother. I'm sorry about how Mira's people have been treating her." He turned towards Deborah, smiled at her as if she were his own mother, and to Skye's surprise, she smiled back. "She looked cold. So I gave her an extra blanket. Isn't that right, Deb?"

Skye looked towards her mother and watched her nod. She began to walk towards her, concerned about what exactly Lucas Taylor had been saying to her. But Deborah saw her worry and smiled calmly at her daughter. "It's okay, Bucket. He's been looking after me."

But Skye wasn't a fool. She knew Taylor's missing son wouldn't turn up after all these years just to give her mother a blanket. He wanted something and she guessed he wanted it from her. "Why?" she asked, glaring at him suspiciously. "What do you want?"

He hesitated a moment, looking impressed by how forward she was being, flashing her that grin again. "Okay, you caught me. I was really hoping you would do me a favour."

"What kind of favour?" she snapped.

He led her over to the edge of the balcony, his hand on her back. He felt warm and cold at the same time. She couldn't get the idea out of her head that he was going to push her. He retrieved a little device from his pocket and told her what he wanted her to do. But she was resistant.

"Why don't _you_ do it?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest defiantly. "Why don't you come back to Terra Nova? Michael would be happy to see you."

Lucas scoffed at the idea, finding her ignorance on his family history endearing. "I somehow doubt that severely. My father would probably have me shot if I came anywhere near Terra Nova. Besides, they aren't to know about any of this. Let's keep it between you and I. Understand?"

She looked up at him quizzically, confused as to why he would say such a thing. But he was obviously beginning to lose patience, his amusement quickly turning in to irritation. He decided to use Mira's leverage approach and he threatened her mother's life.

It worked.

"Thank you…Bucket." His voice was like scratching fingernails on a chalkboard and when he turned around she felt like she had been struck across the face. For years she had wondered what Lucas Taylor was like and now she wished she had never found out.

* * *

><p>Pod Zero was a lot different to the Brig. It was smaller for one thing, and darker, a lot like a prison cell. After spending two whole days locked in there, Michael still hadn't cracked. Commander Taylor was watching his son through the small window of the cell door, noting Michael's deterioration since he had been detained. He was curled up on the bench, looking worn and pale and generally exhausted. But it was all standard interrogational procedure. It just didn't seem to be working.<p>

"He doesn't look so good," said Wash's voice from behind him and she was welcomed by a weary sigh.

"I never thought I'd have to do this with him," Taylor admitted with regret as he brought a hand to the glass. "He was always a good son…a good soldier..."

"With all due respect, sir, don't you think you're being a little hard on him?"

The Commander clicked his tongue, turning himself to face her. He examined her briefly before continuing. "Tell me, Wash, would you be saying that if this were anybody else? Or is this just because it's Michael?"

Wash stared at him, her brows clinching together. "I just think he's already told you everything he knows."

Taylor scoffed at her. "Your feelings for him have clouded your judgement. This is exactly what I was afraid of."

"He had good intentions."

"That's no excuse. He still betrayed my trust, betrayed this colony. And he has intel; intel I need to protect our home. He needs to decide what side he's on."

She swallowed. "He did this for me, sir. To save _my_ life. I think you know what side he's on."

There was a pause in which the Commander fell very silent, his eyes drifting from the Lieutenant back to his son in the dark prison cell. "How much do you really care about him, Wash?" he enquired, his voice softer this time. "Would you have done the same if the roles were reversed? Would you have lied to me to save him?"

"I…" Another pause. She couldn't find her voice. Couldn't find the answer.

He didn't look back. "You know this whole…_relationship _you two have… I should have expected it from him, really. Michael gets distracted easily. He lets his feelings get in the way. Hell, he was just a kid when I brought him here. Still so young, so naïve. But you – you let me down, Wash. You knew better."

"I know, sir."

"Michael's an adult now. He knows what he wants and there's nothing I can do about that. I just want you to be careful."

He could feel her staring at him. He knew she understood.

"Yes, sir…"

Taylor took in a deep breath and then he opened the cell door.

Michael jolted awake, wiping at his tired eyes, trying to focus them as his father came in to view.

"Morning," the Commander greeted sourly, seating himself opposite him. "So, have you got anything else to tell me?"

"It's been two days," the Corporal muttered, still slumped against the wall. "I've told you everything."

"Not everything. There has to be something else."

Michael pinched the skin between his eyes, growing even more agitated. "What have you done to Boylan?" he asked.

"Don't worry about him. Shannon's with him," Taylor answered quickly. "Let's talk. What else did you learn about the Sixers?"

He was sick to death of the questions. Over and over again. It was infuriating. He wanted more than anything to tell the truth and go home, to tell his father about Deborah, to get it all out, purge the information like a disease. Then he could finally rest. But he kept seeing Skye's face, her desperate eyes. The promise. He was tired of favours and promises. But this was Skye and he would do this for her.

"What about Mira? Maybe she told you something?"

"No," groaned Michael, holding his head in his hands. "Please, dad. I want to go home. This place is driving me crazy. Please."

"Try to think. Are you sure there's nothing else?"

"Yes!" he cried, leaning his head back wearily against the wall. "I'm sure." He searched his mind for one piece of information he could use to satisfy his father. Then he remembered the photograph. Suddenly, his whole body sprung back to life. "No! Wait. There is something." His father leant forward with curiosity. Michael told him about Mira's daughter and the people who took her away, the same people who hired her to get rid of him.

"A daughter," Taylor repeated, deep in thought. "She thinks she can get back to her…"

"But how is that possible?" questioned Michael. The girl was back in 2149. It was impossible to get back there. The portal only went one way. "Unless…" Something clicked. The dream he had, his brother in the tree, holding the box - Mira's box - Or was it? _Control the past, control the future…_Michael glanced up anxiously, a name on his lips that he was too afraid to speak. His father said it for him.

"Lucas. He's still working on making the portal go both ways."

"He's working with the Sixers?" Michael asked, and now he was questioning whether deep down he knew it all along.

His father nodded slowly. "That's what we thought but we needed confirmation."

"_We_?" he repeated. "Is this…you and Shannon? You told him about Lucas?" For years he had kept this terrible secret and now his father was revealing it to complete strangers.

"He needed to know."

"And what else have you told him?"

"Commander, may I speak with you?" entered Wash, glancing meaningfully at Michael.

The Commander tore his hard gaze away from his son and spoke with Wash in the corner of the room. Michael strained to hear what they were saying but they were speaking too quietly.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll take it from here."

When Alicia left, Taylor turned back to his eldest, his frown deepening. "I'm gonna ask you one last time, Michael, and I want you to be honest. Do you know who the Sixer Spy is?"

He hesitated. This could be it. If he confessed now everything might still be okay, maybe he would even be forgiven. Maybe his father could help. But no. He was in too deep. And Skye was relying on him. He gathered himself: "No." And it was as simple as that.

After that he was free to go. Wash had informed Taylor about the ambush on Reynold's convoy that proved Michael and Boylan were innocent, so there wasn't any more reason to keep them under lock and key. Michael went home to clean himself up. His head was pounding. He couldn't blame the Commander for being so suspicious, but at the same time he was frustrated. He never wanted him to look at him that way, to treat him like that. He felt lower than he'd ever been. He felt empty. Since he was a kid, he only ever wanted to be like his dad. He only ever wanted to make him proud. Now he could assume his rank had been stripped of him, his status diminished, the respect of his father gone completely. Who could he be now? Who had he become?

But he didn't have time to dwell on it. Michael had to see Boylan. He had to know if he was okay. Even more so, he wanted to ask him about Lucas. Had he known all along that his brother was working with the Sixers? It didn't make any sense. If he knew, why didn't he tell him? He wasn't sure about anything anymore. Everyone was lying to each other, everyone had secrets. Nowadays Michael was having trouble identifying where one lie ended and where another began.

He hobbled through the market, his bad leg aching the entire way. He had almost made it to the bar when he noticed Skye in the distance by herself, looking anxious. She had probably been worrying about the interrogation. He decided to try and catch up to her, to tell her everything was okay, but someone else stepped in front of him.

"This is how you spend your freedom? Limping around aimlessly through the colony?"

"It's good exercise, Alicia," remarked Michael with a sly grin. "Remember, I've been locked up for days. I need a good workout."

She raised an eyebrow. "Let me walk you home. You look like you could use the help."

Michael glanced towards where he had seen Skye but she was gone. "I'm fine. But I wouldn't mind the company."

She smiled and they walked together. "So your name's been cleared. You must be pretty happy."

"Not sure if happy's the right word."

She paused a beat. "I know that must have been tough on you. But the Commander was only doing what he thought was best."

"He always does," said Michael.

"Are you okay?"

"No…but I will be," he smiled reassuringly at her. He kept replaying the whole thing in his head, the way he had been yelled at, glared at as if he were some kind of villain.

They stopped outside the house and Michael looked back at Alicia's comforting face. There was no judgement in her eyes. But he had to know. "Did you think I was the spy?" he asked her tentatively, unsure of whether he wanted to hear the answer. "Before you found out about the ambush. Did you think it was me?" She shook her head. "Why not?" he questioned. "Everybody else did. All the evidence pointed to me."

She smiled at him, the small little smile she saved for only him. "I know who you are," she said gently. "You're not like them, the Sixers. You're not like Lucas."

He felt his chest tighten, his head bowed, almost on the verge of tears. But he wasn't sad. He was relieved.

"I heard…about what you did for me…why you were involved with them."

His head snapped up again. "Oh."

She took his hand. "You saved my life. Don't get me wrong, what you did was stupid. I would have yelled at you myself if I had known at the time." They both laughed and Michael felt his face redden. "But…thank you."

"I just couldn't bare the thought…of saying goodbye."

She was staring at him intensely, holding his hand tightly in hers. She looked like she wanted to say something. She kept seeing Michael in that bed after the accident, unconscious, fighting for life. She hadn't been ready to say goodbye either, and it made her realise something – she didn't want to. "I have…tried hard to ignore my feelings," she said, and Michael could see that whatever she was trying to say she was struggling. "To move on. To uphold the 'code of honour'…"

"Alicia—"

"Shut up. Listen. I tried because I didn't want to let the Commander down. Because this job is who I am and I didn't want to mess it up. Because it's all I ever had. I don't have a family, I don't have kids, I didn't have anything _except_ this." She exhaled shakily. "I've made mistakes before…bad mistakes…ones I can never make up for. I was scared. I admit that. But then after the meteor… after your accident, I realised I was more afraid of losing you. It just made me see I can't change the way I feel."

Was he dreaming? Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He held on to every word, listening intently, eager to see where she was going. But his heart was currently in overdrive, already assuming things for him, beating so fast he wondered whether Alicia could sense it. He whispered her name, feeling her pull him closer, feeling her breath on his lips.

She kissed him gently. Slowly. Letting all those repressed feeling emerge all at once and spark like fireworks exploding in the night sky. She had missed this; so had he. The blissful feeling of her lips against his and her fingertips tracing along his cheek, her body, her warmth... It was enough to erase the past couple of days of torture. He watched as she pulled back gradually and unlocked the door, and as it swung open he realised this was not his house; it was hers. She took his hand and led him inside. There was no hesitation. But as he followed her in to the house, their fingers intertwined, Alicia's taste still on his tongue, he wondered how long this could last before something else tore them apart again.

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

**(A/N: I'm sorry this took so long :( I'm afraid it's essay season at Uni and I'm having a hard time. I will definitely make time to continue this though :) Thank you for still reading! )**

Thick as Thieves chapter 20

Tearing herself away from the warmth of the mattress, Alicia reached for her tank top, smirking as she eyed Michael on the other side of the room. "Hey. I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" she asked playfully, referring to his injured leg. He smiled briefly and shook his head. He finished dressing in silence.

Once she had laced up her boots, she got to her feet again and caught on to his distant gaze. "What's wrong?" she enquired, nearing him. "I thought you'd be happy."

"I was," he answered her quietly. His hair was a mess and his clothes were still crumpled, giving him an almost child-like quality. "What happens now?" he added. "We go back to being Corporal and Lieutenant again?"

Her expression fell and she closed the gap between them, smoothing her fingers through his hair. "That's the way it has to be. For now."

He huffed in annoyance and then there was that angry schoolboy look again. "It's not enough."

She drew back. "The reason I ended it was so things like this couldn't happen. So you wouldn't get hurt, but clearly that didn't work out." She gazed in to his green eyes inquisitively – tragically – and remained silent for a beat as she looked at him. "What do you want?"

"I want you," he replied, almost automatically, taking her hands. "I want to be with you. I don't want to hide it anymore."

She bit her lip, quietening for a moment. "Do you realise what you're asking me?"

"Alicia…I don't expect anything. You wanted to know what I wanted and the answer is you, that's all."

A long pause followed, Alicia's eyes darting back and forth between his, thinking. This was one of those rare, unsettling moments where she looked genuinely unsure.

"Okay," she said gently.

"Okay?"

"As soon as the spy is dealt with. We'll tell the Commander. We'll tell everyone, if it's what you want."

He grinned at her, disbelief in his face, then the smile turned in to a laugh. His hands caressed her cheeks and his lips met with hers in an overjoyed kiss. It didn't occur to him in that moment that being with Alicia meant outing Skye as the mole. He was just happy that there was a possibility.

"Alright," she said. "Come on. We ought to get you home before anybody misses us. I'm supposed to be keeping you out of trouble."

"Then you're doing a terrible job," he quipped, pulling her a little closer, making her chuckle and roll her eyes and kiss him again.

"Okay, seriously," she said, hitting him playfully.

"Fine, I'll behave. But I've got to see Boylan about something first... I just wanna see if he's okay."

She narrowed her eyes, considering it. "Fine, but be quick about it." Then she kissed him again, knowing that it would probably be their last for some time.

When Michael arrived at the bar, it was in shambles. Tables and chairs were overturned, bottles were smashed and papers were scattered all over the floor. In the centre of it all was Boylan, busily sweeping up the mess.

"Jeez, Boylan. What happened here?"

Tom looked up and grimaced at Michael. "Your friends left one helluva mess while I was locked up, that's what happened."

"Want some help?" he offered guiltily.

"Nah, you're alright."

"You look awful, Tom. What did they do to you?"

Tom hesitated a bit, scratched his head and wiped some of the sweat from off his face. He looked deeply troubled, staring at Michael as if he were anxious about something. "I've done something bad, Michael."

Michael raised both his brows. "What?"

Boylan put down his broom and came closer to the Corporal, speaking in hushed tones. "While I was down there…they drugged me to get me in to talking and I just…I said something."

"To who?" Michael demanded.

"Shannon."

He felt his heart start to race. "_What did you tell him_?"

The barman fidgeted. "I said something about Pilgrim's Tree…about Phillbrick's body. I don't remember exactly, I was out of it."

Michael swept a hand through his hair, panicking. As if things weren't bad enough, now the new sheriff was about to discover he was a murderer, too.

"I'm going to go down for this, Boylan," Michael snapped. "I've only just got out of that Brig…He's gonna find out."

"No, he won't," insisted Tom, trying to calm him. "Alright. He doesn't know who the body is and even if he does, he can't connect you to the death. Just forget about it."

"Forget about it? Boylan, I killed someone. If Shannon finds out, it won't matter what my father says, the colony will want me out for good."

"I won't let that happen. He's gonna come back wanting more info soon. I'll tell him I don't know what he's on about. I was so far gone I could've said any old rubbish."

"I don't know, Tom."

"It's gonna be okay, kid. Just rest up and look after yourself. I'll deal with this."

Michael hesitated and then gave Boylan a defeated smile. "I guess if you hadn't tried to cover for me like you did, you wouldn't have been locked up in the first place. Thanks…for doing that."

"No worries," Boylan said. Michael still looked unsure. "Listen, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Taylor's always suspected me as the spy. At least both our names are in the clear. Now they can concentrate on whoever's _really_ working for Mira."

Michael shifted uncomfortably. Boylan was right. Now the focus was shifted from them, his father could be getting closer and closer to identifying Skye as the Sixer mole. It was only a matter of time. Then he remembered one of the reasons he had come to visit. He asked Boylan if he knew anything about Lucas working with Mira. He denied it.

"Michael, I swear. I don't know anything about that. If I did, I would have told you."

Michael stared at him. He believed him. He didn't have any reason not to. "I know I can trust you, Tom," he said.

He re-joined Wash outside, limping up the steps, the bright sunlight blinding him, making his head ache again.

"You okay?" she asked as Michael tried to shield his eyes from the white sunshine.

It felt like someone drilling in to his skull through his eye sockets. "Yeah, I just get these headaches sometimes," he replied. "Ever since the accident."

"Maybe you should get it checked out."

"I'm fine." He began to walk towards the houses again, but overnight the pain became more frequent and unbearable. He was having trouble sleeping again, and it didn't help that he knew Shannon might be out there somewhere, digging up Phillbrick's body.

Even Taylor was becoming concerned. "Let Doctor Shannon check you out. Better safe than sorry," he advised his son.

"It's nothing," Michael claimed, and then found himself repeating the same thing to Doctor Shannon ten minutes later. The light she was shining directly in to his pupils didn't help.

"Well, I could do a few tests to make sure," the doctor suggested. "If the accident caused this there's a chance it could be more serious."

"Doc's right, son," Taylor said, standing beside Elizabeth. "If I'm gonna have you back on my team, I need you in top form."

Michael perked up then, looking up from his place on the Infirmary bed. "What? You want me back on the team?"

"I can be reasonable. You can earn the right to keep your rank. In fact, there's something I need to discuss with you later. You'll come see me?"

"Of course," said Michael eagerly. "I will."

"Good," the Commander smiled. "But you tell me if you're not feeling up to it. No more lies, no more secrets. You tell me everything. Gottit?"

"Yessir," Michael agreed, and with that Taylor allowed him to go.

"Are you sure he's alright?" Elizabeth asked the Commander, glancing back towards the door where Michael had made his exit.

"He's had a stressful time lately," Taylor explained. "I'm sure he'll be fine, but…I am worried about him."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "You're his father, of course you're worried."

"There's been a lot on his mind lately…I need him thinking straight. I just need to know he's alright, that I can trust him."

"Well, if the headaches are stress-related I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. But in the meantime, if you're worried about anxiety, I could prescribe some sleeping tablets?"

"If you think it'll help. Thanks, doc."

Feeling the pain still throbbing inside his head, Michael strolled outside and took in a deep breath of the fresh air. He considered going to find Skye. They hadn't talked much lately; he wanted her to know that her secret was safe with him. Plus, he was still concerned about her. Unlike him, she was still under Mira's thumb and that, he knew all too well, was not a pleasant place to be. But when he got to her house, she wasn't there.

So he decided to go for a walk through the colony to clear his head. The fresh air and the exercise did some good, although he was still limping his way around. He was starting to feel better when he felt something crash in to him, pushing him against a building. His face was pressed to the wall, someone holding his arm behind his back, causing him to wince.

"I found the body," barked a threatening voice. Jim Shannon. Of course. And he was _furious_.

"What are you talking about?" Michael struggled to get out of his hold.

"You may have the Commander fooled, but I know you're still working for the Sixers. You're a murderer and the truth is gonna come out."

"Get off me."

"Boylan told me. He said you were there."

"Where?"

Jim pulled his arm back even more, making Michael cry out with the agony. "I know you killed Phillbrick," Jim said.

"Let me go, Shannon."

"Admit it."

"Let me go!" Using his last ounce of strength, he managed to push himself away from the wall and elbow Shannon in the face with his other arm, forcing the man backwards. The cop recovered quickly and punched him. Hard. Dazed, he tripped and found himself in a heap on the ground. Jim picked him up angrily.

"I want to show you something, and then we're gonna talk."

Michael had no choice. Jim dragged him back towards the infirmary, the science lab in fact, where Lucas used to work. As Jim shoved him into one of the rooms in the lab, there on the table was a rotted skeleton. Michael was repulsed.

"You might not recognise him so much now," said Jim resentfully. "But I know you had something to do with his death."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael murmured, his breaths heavy as his mind once again began to cloud with pain.

"I'm asking you to do the right thing, Corporal. Confess."

Michael remembered the struggle that night. Both of their hands trying to grab the gun. _Bang_. It was an accident. How could he possibly explain? He was beginning to see a redness in the corner of his eyes. "I'm not a killer," breathed Michael, his tired eyes still staring at that skeletal figure who used to be Phillbrick. He shuddered. Was this really the man he had killed all those years ago?

"You're a traitor," corrected Jim. "Why should I believe anything you say?"

"You don't understand."

"If the colony finds out about this, you and Taylor will be finished. This is serious; you have no idea what you've done here."

"I know _exactly _what I've done," seethed Michael. "I know how much Terra Nova means to my father. It means just as much to me. What I did was to protect my home and I don't regret that for a second. You think you're the hero around here, acting like you know it all!" he scoffed. "You don't know the first thing about it. I was here first. There's secrets about this place you can't even begin to understand!"

It felt like somebody else talking, the anger taking over. He felt the rage bubbling up inside.

"I'm gonna have to turn you in, Michael." He went to restrain him but Michael resisted. He wasn't going back to that prison, and especially not because of Jim Shannon.

"Don't touch me," he warned, shoving Jim back in to some metal trays, the loud clanging ringing in their ears. He felt the dull ache behind his eyes start to spread, and then Jim hit him across the face, causing him to topple over on to the remains of the General's body.

His eyes widened with horror, the stench of the soily skeleton making his stomach turn. He kept seeing flashes; the echo of the gunshot, the blood on his hands, the endless scrubbing and washing and sickness that never seemed to go away. He was being strangled. His entire body shook. This had all been over. Boylan had fixed it all, Boylan and his father. They had buried him. It had been long gone. Until Shannon dug that dusty grave up.

He lost his temper fast and launched at Jim, forcing his whole body in to his and knocking him to the floor. Cries and shouts of anger were heard as the two rolled around on the ground, throwing punches, left and right, crashing in to furniture and lab equipment. By the time Michael realised what he was doing, it was all over.

Soldiers had separated them. Taylor was standing at the door, in front of a horrified Malcolm. They were both demanding what was going on. Michael felt blood trickle down from his lip. He could see Jim shake off the soldier who was restraining him, still angry. Michael was stunned with himself. He couldn't find the words to explain. Jim tried to do all the talking, pulling the Commander to the side and murmuring to him. Taylor frowned and nodded, his solemn gaze holding Michael's before settling on to the skeleton. Then he ordered his men to take Jim to the Brig.

"_What_? Did you hear what I just said, Taylor?" demanded a frustrated Jim.

"I'm charging you with conspiracy and endangering the welfare of this colony. I have evidence to suggest you're the spy, Jim. Attacking my son is the last straw. You and I are gonna have a serious talk."

After some protesting, Jim was dragged from the lab. Taylor looked back at his son who was returning him that same shame-faced look he used to give him as a teenager. "Wait for me at home," he said, and Michael nodded silently.

Outside, excitement was building for the harvest, but Michael went straight home and waited for his father. Whatever Jim knew about Phillbrick, he knew his father would fix it. But he was still worried.

When Taylor arrived home an hour later, his son was sat alone at the kitchen counter, holding a cloth to his swollen lip, looking sore and beaten and depressed. His father looked at him with pity and shook his head.

"I told Jim everything."

"What do you mean _everything_?" questioned Michael warily, holding the bloodied cloth away from his face.

"I told him what happened with Phillbrick, about Lucas; everything."

Michael nodded unhappily. He could have been angry, but he knew it had been necessary. Otherwise Jim would not have put this to rest.

"We can trust him," Taylor promised. "For now."

"Doesn't change the fact that what he said was true," Michael said, pouting with his swollen lip. "I _am_ a murderer."

Taylor sat opposite Michael. "You did what you had to do to protect me. You know that. I will always be grateful for what you did, understand?"

"Yeah."

"I vote we put this behind us. But I _am_ concerned about what happened in there," Taylor admitted, examining the sores on his son's face.

"I don't know what happened," said Michael quietly. "I just…lost it."

"Doctor Shannon gave me these." Taylor retrieved the sleeping tablets from his jacket and put them on the counter. "They're to help you sleep. To help whatever is going on in that head of yours…I need you rested. I need you well again because I need you for something."

Now Michael was curious. "For what?"

Taylor fell silent for a moment. Michael knew he was considering whether or not to tell him of his plans. "Soon," he said. "It's been a long day, and it's not over yet." At that moment, the cheers from the crowd erupted outside, prompting Taylor to get to his feet. "Festival's starting," he announced. "Better get out there and make my speech. You'll come and watch, won't you."

"Sure, dad," promised Michael.

* * *

><p>"Today we take the time to take a reckoning of everything that we've accomplished together," the Commander declared proudly from his place on the stage, hundreds of eyes watching him. "And to give thanks for everything we have. "<p>

Michael found Wash in the crowd beside Malcolm and crept up behind her, his hand slipping in to hers. She glanced back and smiled warmly at him.

"Heard you got in to a fight," she said into his ear as he stood closer to her. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes."

"I'm fine," he grinned with his sore lip. They were interrupted by a baby's cry and they turned their smiles towards the Commander holding the new addition to the colony. He couldn't help being mesmerised by the tiny little creature squirming in Taylor's arms. "You ever think about babies?" he whispered casually to her.

"Do _you_?" she retorted, dodging the question.

"I guess," he murmured. "Maybe."

"This is what Terra Nova's all about," his father's voice broke in again. "We're all in this together. You're my friends, my family, my loved ones. And today I give thanks for each and every one of you."

As the fireworks started, the colours exploding in the night sky, Michael finally felt at ease next to Alicia, their bodies warming each other, their fingers interlocking. He mused on his father's speech, thinking about Lucas out there somewhere, thinking about his mother, and he concluded that if he ever had a second chance at having a family again, it would be right here in Terra Nova, with the people he loved.

But until then, there was old family to deal with, and old scores to settle, because it wouldn't be long until the two brothers finally came together in a reunion.

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hello! Hope everyone had a great holiday! Sorry no updates for a while, but I am back with a new chapter :) Very nearing the end end now! I hope you stick around :)**

**Thick as Thieves chapter 21**

The colony was on lock-down nobody got in and nobody got out. Everybody was starting to feel uneasy; the cheeriness from the harvest long gone. Taylor and Jim were determined to find out who the spy was, and that meant things weren't looking good for Skye.

Michael was expecting to see her at the Infirmary, but it looked like she wasn't on shift yet. Doctor Shannon was seeing him for his check-up, asking him all the generic questions, how his headaches were, if he was doing his exercises, etcetera, etcetera. He told her he felt much better since he started taking the sleeping tablets. His head felt clearer, he was rested, he was even walking better without the aid of crutches. In fact, things were really looking up. But as things improved for him, they got worse for Skye.

After the appointment, Michael thanked the doctor for her help. "Just enough time to see my father off," he said, getting to his feet. "Looks like the torch is being passed to your husband for the time being." He paused, trying to hide his bitterness. "I'm sure he'll do a better job than I could have."

"I heard about what happened with you two," she said. "I hope you've resolved things."

Michael smiled awkwardly. "To be honest, your husband and I don't really get along."

"I'm sure you just got off on the wrong foot. Jim can come on a bit strong sometimes."

Michael thought they had got off on several wrong feet, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't apprehensive about Jim being in charge today. But he had no choice. He'd just have to accept it. Besides, his father trusted him and he supposed that was enough to reassure him for now.

He saw the two by the gate as he left the Infirmary and Taylor smiled at him. He patted him on the shoulder. "I'll be back soon, and then we can discuss what I have in mind for you. In the meantime, you'll be in safe hands with Jim here."

"Looking forward to it," Michael said through a forced smile.

"Relax, kid," Jim smirked. "Since you're not a Corporal anymore, you won't have to take orders from me."

"Well, that's a relief," he joked, although this didn't help to pacify his frustration.

"I'll see you soon," Taylor said, embracing his son. He then said his goodbyes and Michael watched him mount his bike and drive away from Terra Nova.

"Just so you know, Michael, I haven't ruled you out as being the spy," Jim muttered to him. "I know what happened with Phillbrick was to protect your father, but you still lied to us."

"My father understands," Michael replied, disgruntled by his remarks. "He's forgiven me."

"Has he?" Jim questioned sceptically, walking off before Michael could retort anything else.

Michael felt like hitting him again, but he restrained himself. No one had really had this effect on him before. He had been sure that Taylor had seen things from his perspective, that he no longer suspected him as the spy. But it was clear Jim still had doubts, and as he walked through the colony he was sensing something off about the way people looked at him.

He knew the reason his father had left the colony today had something to do with Lucas. With Mira. With all of this. Sometimes Michael thought their father still had a soft spot for Lucas, that he still loved and cared for him and if Lucas begged him for forgiveness maybe some way, somehow, Taylor would give him a second chance.

Just then he saw Skye heading for the Infirmary. Perfect. He could finally catch up with her about the recent events he had endured. But as he approached, she looked rather panicked.

"Starting your shift?" he grinned at her. "Told you you'd make a good doctor."

"I'm just helping out," she said, embarrassed. "And I actually just forgot something in my locker so I gotta go."

He noticed her pained look and the way she was hiding her hand behind her back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He took her hand. His eyes widened, seeing the blood. The wound was deep.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

"It's stupid."

"It looks bad."

"I can fix it. That's why I need to go, okay? I'll see you later."

Michael caught her arm as she tried to escape. "You seem edgy, Squirt."

"I'm fine. Honestly. You don't need to look out for me."

"Well, actually, I do. I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Can it wait? I'm just really late, so…"

"For what?" he said suspiciously.

"Just something…"

He paused a beat. Then realisation. "You're going to meet with_ them_."

"Shh!" she hissed, looking around her quickly. "Are you trying to get me caught?"

"Don't go, Skye. You can't. Terra Nova's on lock-down."

"I'm not leaving my mother there," she insisted. "I need to see her. I'll find a way."

"Skye – "

"_Michael_," she intoned. "I can take care of myself."

"Clearly," he said sarcastically, nodding to her bleeding hand.

She huffed with annoyance. "Look, you're out. Your name's been cleared and I'm happy for you, but the less you know the better. You've kept enough secrets for me. Just let me deal with this alone."

He exhaled heavily in defeat, seeing how much little Skye had grown. "I think your parents would be proud of you, y'know. I'm sure your mom is."

"That's what Taylor said," she smiled sadly. "Wish I could believe it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Squirt." He paused in thought. "Look, I hear there's a group about to go on work detail. That Josh kid's going. You could sneak out with him."

"That'd work," she said happily. "Thanks."

"Just be careful, Skye."

"I will."

He smiled at her before she departed, hastening towards the Infirmary to treat her wound. He hoped she'd be okay. But she was a grown woman now, perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Nothing he could have said would have changed her mind. He still remembered that scared young girl huddled underneath those trees, hidden behind a mass of curly hair. How she'd grown indeed. And at the same time that feeling of protectiveness over her was stronger than ever. Stronger than he had ever felt for Lucas. She was the closest he'd have to a sister, and that's why he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

That's why he had to do what he did next.

During the course of the day, he'd heard rumours of a blood sample, and suddenly it all fit. Skye's cut hand. Her panic. She must have been compromised. And now she was one blood test away from being found out. But he had to be sure.

He ran into Reynolds on patrol. Truth be told, they hadn't talked much since Mark found him with Mira's peculiar box, whatever that turned out to be. In fact, he hadn't talked to any of the old officers much. Perhaps they didn't trust him anymore, or maybe he didn't trust them. Either way, now was the ideal time for a reconciliation.

"I heard you guys got a blood sample," he said to Mark casually.

Mark looked at him unsurely, narrowing his dark eyes.

Michael stood beside him and nudged him lightly. "Come on, Mark. We used to be friends."

"Something like that," he mumbled.

"I took you under my wing when you were a new recruit, remember that?"

"Yeah…" He looked like he was beginning to break.

"Hey, I'm just as concerned as you about this spy," Michael insisted. "You trust me, right?"

Mark shot him an uncertain look before giving in and explaining how some of the evidence had been destroyed so Jim had handed the sample over to Malcolm for some tests.

"That's great news," Michael said, trying to hide the fact his palms were sweating.

"Maybe we'll finally catch this traitor, huh?" Mark said hopefully.

"Finger's crossed…I'll see you later."

"Michael," Reynolds said, stepping towards him. "Maybe when you've got some free time…you'd wanna join me and the guys for a drink?"

This, after everything, he had not expected. It was just like old times. Almost. He felt his smile widen. "Sure. I'd like that."

* * *

><p>He waited until dark, until the Infirmary began to empty and the science lab was closed. Malcolm would be running tests on it. Tests that would likely take a while – this was his chance. He ruffled his hair, took a deep breath and stumbled through the doors, groaning.<p>

"Doc, you gotta minute?"

"Of course," Doctor Shannon answered, her voice full of concern. "What's wrong, Michael? You look awful."

"It's these damn headaches," he complained, clutching at his head. "I can feel it coming on afterall. You gotta give me something for the pain."

"I really think I should run some tests, Michael," she advised.

"If the meds don't work, I promise, I will."

"Fine. Wait here, I'll find you something."

He smiled through a wince and as she left he began scanning the area. The doors to the science lab were open and he saw one of the rooms with a flashing light. He got up and on further inspection saw that the light was from a computer which was scanning the blood sample.

He glanced around him quickly and, seeing that the coast was clear, entered the room quietly. He saw a beaker with the tiniest mist of blood inside, the computer whirring away to find a match. "Dammit Skye," he breathed, searching the room for something to destroy the evidence. In one of the drawers he found a pipette and with it, collected a few drops of water to drip into the container. Within seconds the sample was diluted. "You better thank me for this," he murmured before clearing up after himself and sneaking back to the clinic. He sat back on his cot and wiped moisture from his brow as Doctor Shannon returned with the medication.

"Take one, only when the pain is bad."

"Thanks, doc," he said with relief.

He nearly bumped into Skye on his way out, all ready for her shift that evening.

"Woah," he said, clamping his hands on her arms to steady himself. "Hey, Squirt."

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He held up the medication Doctor Shannon gave him.

"Head still bothering you, huh?"

He bit his lip. "Not really." He lowered his voice. "I took care of it, Skye."

"What?"

He leaned in closer. "The blood."

"I didn't want you to get involved!" she said, clearly upset. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"You didn't have to. I'm your friend. Friends look out for each other. Besides, I know how hard it is to cover your tracks. A little help never hurt anyone."

Skye folded her arms.

"I was only trying to protect you," he explained.

"And I said I don't need protecting!" she snapped. "I'm not some little girl, I can take care of myself."

He was taken aback by her response. "I know that…"

She sighed and held her palm to her head. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Rough day. I'm worried about my mom and it's just…this time of year."

He nodded. The anniversary of her father's death. "I know," he smiled sympathetically. "I miss him too. He was a good soldier. My father was fond of him." He placed a hand gently on her arm. "Look, I understand. I just didn't want you to go through this alone."

She looked up at him warily, a frightened look still in her eye. "I know. Thank you. For what you did."

There was a small silence.

"Michael?"

He watched her face crease together worriedly as if she had something important to tell him. But after a short moment, she glanced back down.

"Nothing."

"You sure? You can tell me anything, Skye."

She shook her head, still frowning. "I better go for my shift," she announced. "Talk to you later."

"Okay."

He watched her enter the building and leave him standing there, wondering what was wrong or how he could help. On the way home he tried to come up with something he could do to cheer her up, to help take her mind off everything. But with the colony being on lockdown that didn't leave them with many options.

At home, he flopped down on the sofa, beginning to feel fed up. But his mood lifted when he retrieved his old security tag from his pocket and flicked through photographs of he and Alicia together. Of course they weren't supposed to be on there, but all the guys had pictures of their girls on there and Michael was no exception, although he obviously kept these secret. Most of the time the old thing was hidden at the bottom of his sock draw. For starters it had a tracker and if his father was to discover the photographs, he and Alicia would be in for a world of trouble. He smiled as he looked through photos of Wash smiling. He missed her, but he knew she wouldn't be back for a while yet. There was nothing left to do but wait.

The next morning, word of the Commander's return reached Michael, but he was more bothered about Jim's reaction to the destroyed blood sample in the lab. It was safe to say he was not pleased, but something _had_ come of the tests. Michael was stood outside of the Command Centre when he heard Jim tell his father that the Sixer mole was female. Michael cursed under his breath when he saw Skye approaching behind him, giving him a look that suggested she had heard too.

"It'll be okay," he whispered to her and she silently nodded.

"He asked you here too?" she said.

His turn to nod.

Jim greeted him on his way out. "Seems I owe you an apology."

"What?" Michael said, perhaps a little too much surprise in his tone.

"I'm sure you heard about the blood sample we got from the spy. It was tampered with, but we managed to narrow it down a little and determine the spy is a woman."

"A woman," Michael repeated, unsure what else to add.

Jim cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I suspected you. I was following my gut, but I…wanted to apologise for how I treated you."

Michael didn't really feel like acting pals with Jim at that moment, but he surmised that there was no point in holding grudges. "Apology accepted."

Jim nodded appreciatively. Then he turned his attention to the girl beside him. "Hey, Skye. I'll see you over our house for dinner later?"

"Sure, Mr. Shannon," she smiled nervously, and as soon as he was gone Michael gave Skye a look.

"What? Josh invited me," she said defensively.

"Skye, Michael," Taylor greeted as he walked onto the balcony. "Thanks for coming. I thought the three of us could take a visit to Memorial Field. Pay our respects."

"Sounds good," Skye said and Michael agreed.

* * *

><p>It was quiet at Memorial Field. Across the way there were a few farmers tending to their crops, but otherwise it was silent. Michael gripped Skye's hand before she wandered off to where her father – and supposedly her mother – was buried, placing flowers at the grave.<p>

"Never easy losing someone you love," Taylor said to his son as they watched Skye mourn. "I still miss your mother. Every damn day. Miss her like crazy."

"Me too," said Michael quietly, hesitant whether he wanted to bring this up again now, but his father seemed adamant.

"I just want you to know, I did all I could for her. For all of you." He swallowed back his pain, his voice softening. "When you and Lucas were born, I held you both in my arms, and I looked at you…these _tiny_ little things…and I promised that I would try my damned hardest to protect you. Whatever it took."

Michael looked over at his father, seeing his tragic eyes stare at the floor. "Dad…what's wrong?"

He took a moment to respond. Then, he took a deep breath and looked up, his expression solemn, maybe even slightly pained. "While I was OTG I ran into Mira. She confirmed that the Sixers are working for Lucas. We were right; he's trying to get the portal working both ways again. It's only a matter of time."

Michael wasn't sure how to react. He'd had time to prepare for this, but somehow, it didn't make Lucas' betrayal sting any less. Now he was sensing what his father wanted to talk to him about.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to go out into the jungle for me and find the Sixer camp. I want you to pretend we never found you out. Keep visiting Mira, keep making deals with her as if nothing's changed. While you're there, you're gonna report everything back to me. I want you to find the spy…and I want you to find Lucas. Can you do that for me?"

"You want me to be _your_ spy?" Michael questioned, hesitance in his voice. "I don't know, dad…"

"Michael, this is your chance to earn back what you've lost in all this. You want to still be a part of this colony, well here's your chance."

Michael knew it was a bad idea, but he also knew he couldn't refuse. After a pause, he agreed, seeing his father's face brighten. He felt like he was already starting to win him back. He would be ready for this. He would be ready for Lucas. This was all going to end soon, and the right side was going to win.

_**TBC**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Thick as Thieves chapter 22**

The Command Centre seemed a lot smaller than it used to be. Perhaps it was because Michael was older, and so used to being within these confined walls, or perhaps it was because the current situation was making it feel like those same walls were closing in on him now, trying to suffocate him. He tapped his foot rhythmically on the floor as he sat on the stool, the same chair he had sat at many times before, trying to remember the beat of some forgotten tune he had once been obsessed with back in the future.

"I know you're not the spy, Michael," Jim announced as he sat opposite the former Corporal. "But I need to ask you a few questions just to clarify some things. I need to ask what you were doing last Thursday between 9 and 11am. Where were you?"

Michael cleared his throat. "Playing chess with Skye at her house." Just like he had rehearsed. "She won; she's a much better player than me. I guess my father taught her better." He forced a smile. As much as he hated lying, he didn't feel guilty about lying to Jim Shannon. He only hoped that all the practice he had gotten over the previous months had made him skilled enough to fool the local law enforcement.

Jim nodded. "Story fits with Skye's. One more thing; you checked into the infirmary twice that day. Mind if I ask why?"

Michael sucked in a breath. Not that it was any of Jim's business, but he would have to tell him anyway. "That day I had a check-up. To see how I was doing after my accident. I went back later because I get these headaches and I needed something for the pain."

"A headache?" Jim said incredulously, as if this wasn't a satisfying enough reason to seek medical help.

Michael balled his fist up, telling himself that getting into another fight with Jim Shannon was not a good idea. "More like a migraine, actually. I get them real bad after the accident. You can ask your wife, she was there."

"Right. And you didn't see anything out of the ordinary while you were there?"

"No."

"Alright, that's all I needed," Jim said, standing up. "Thanks, you're free to go."

"Great." Michael followed him to the door.

"I hear the Commander's sending you on your mission today."

"That's right."

"Don't suppose you can fill me in on what exactly it is you're doing?"

"You mean he hasn't told you?" Michael enquired. This was a first, though he did feel some level of satisfaction about Jim not being kept in the loop for a change.

"He told me," Jim said. "I'm just a little fuzzy on the details."

"Well." His lips formed a smug smile. "Maybe you can debrief me when I get back, Sheriff."

He left Jim, ignoring his angry gaze, and carried on towards the housing units. He walked past his own house and over to Lieutenant Washington's, making sure to glance around him. He couldn't be seen.

He knocked softly on the door and was greeted by Alicia, who was dressed in only a tank top and shorts, her hair down messily over her shoulders. He smiled mischievously at her. "Lieutenant."

"Corporal," she replied, tugging him into the house before he was seen. "What are you doing here? I thought the Commander gave you a job."

He stood close to her, still smiling, and his hands found their way to her hips. "I came to see how you were. And to say goodbye."

"Goodbye," she said, moving his hands up before they slid any lower.

"This could be dangerous," he teased. "I might not come back."

"Don't say things like that. The Commander wouldn't send you out there if he thought you couldn't handle it."

"Yeah, I mean it's only convincing our biggest enemy that I'm on her side," he said sarcastically, but his gaze was playful.

"You did it before," she argued. "She must like you, to let you just waltz into her camp like that."

"I'm not waltzing," he said, looking baffled. "Besides, if she knows I'm looking for her, _she'll _find _me._"

Alicia sighed. "You sure you're ready for this?" She brushed his cheek with her thumb, the sensation filling him with warmth.

"I can't let my father down again," he said.

She smiled with understanding, and then he leant towards her to touch his lips with hers. She yanked her head back. "Don't. I'm sick. Might be contagious."

He paused only a second and then kissed her anyway. "I'll be back soon." He pressed his mouth to hers, pushing her back gently against the wall, holding her face, her hands on his chest. Eventually, he had to come up for air and he placed her hair behind her ear. She smiled warmly at him and, placing one last kiss on the corner of her mouth, he opened the front door and left.

When he arrived back at the Command Centre, his father was already there, Jim Shannon just in the process of leaving. He gave Michael a nod which he returned. Taylor didn't look happy. He stood by the window, arms crossed, barriers up. "Sit down, Michael."

Michael sat back down in that horrid wooden chair, feeling the tension start to choke him.

"We need to talk about Lieutenant Washington," Taylor said.

_Oh._

"What about her?" Michael managed to get out, but his pulse was already starting to race.

"Jim tells me he saw you go to her house after your interview."

Michael swallowed. "So?"

The Commander was losing patience now. He took a step towards the desk, frowning, the creases in his skin deepening. "Don't," was all he said.

Michael gave in, his eyes searching his father's for some mercy. "You know how I feel about her."

"How long?" barked Taylor.

"Since after my accident," he answered hoarsely.

His father nodded, as if he had known it all along. Maybe he had.

"We were going to tell you."

A look as cold as steel returned him. "_When_?"

"After we caught the spy."

This didn't seem to satisfy his father, who shook his head, a grimace across his face.

"You want to keep us apart," Michael said.

"I want you to tell me the truth," his father corrected. "I thought we had an understanding."

"I love her, _that's_ the truth. We're not just screwing around, if that's what you think. I told you how I feel."

Commander Taylor started to pace the room. "I need you both focused. Especially now. Especially on this mission. We can't afford any negligence. The 11th pilgrimage is due soon and that spy is still out there."

"I _am_ focused," Michael argued.

"You're not! You're young, you're impulsive, you let your feelings get the better of your judgement."

Michael slouched back in the chair, tiring of this, feeling one of his headaches start to burn through his brain. "It's none of your business anyway," he snapped.

"Don't talk to me like that, boy."

Suddenly, he was sixteen years old again, getting lectured by his father, and though he had respected him back then, it was gradually turning into resentment.

"You don't know what it's like. The woman you loved died a long time ago. For you it's all over, you're just a lonely old man who can never fill that void no matter how big you get, or how many orders you throw around, it's never enough!"

The rage in his father's eyes was growing. "I'm trying to do what's best for this colony, what's best for you!" he shouted. "But it's clear that I can't trust you…I may not be able to control your personal life but I can control your status as Corporal. I'm cancelling this mission."

Michael stood up. "You can't do that!"

"Siddown!" his father yelled.

"You can't punish me for refusing to be another you!" he cried. "A shallow, power-hungry old man who has nothing but this colony to take to his grave!"

"SIT DOWN!" bellowed the Commander, causing a few concerned looks from outside.

Michael's head felt like cracking open. His eyes saw red, his temperature rising; he couldn't breathe. He felt an incredible rage take over and he kicked that horrid wooden chair, smashing it into the wall.

And then silence. He tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling quickly. He saw his father watching him, bewildered, even concerned. Michael realised what he had done, what he had said, and it made him sick. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

"I know."

"I don't know what…"

"Maybe you should see Doctor Shannon," his father proposed.

"No." Michael remembered why he was here, why he needed to do this. "I want to go on this mission. I want to be back on the team. Please. I can do this."

His father hesitated for a long time, holding Michael's insistent gaze. "Fine. We'll discuss everything else when you get back."

Michael stood stiffly, still recovering from the outburst, as his father reminded him of the objectives.

"You'll go in unarmed. Regain their trust. Act natural. Find the spy. Find Lucas."

"I know what to do," said Michael.

"Good. And before you go, is there anything else you need to tell me?"

His mind raced: _Yes. I know who the spy is, I destroyed the evidence, I lied. I'm a liar and I need to stop._

"No," he said. "Nothing."

* * *

><p>He doubted Lucas would be there. There had been no sign of him all the other times Michael had been with the Sixers. But seeing Mira again did mean he could question her about her connection with his brother, and he could also check on Skye's mother.<p>

He was already deep into the jungle when he heard a noise. It was close. It sounded like a rustling, like someone was following him. Michael's hand instinctively slid down to his boot, where he had hidden his sonic knife, the same one Wash had given him during training. He was ready for an attack when Skye fell through some bushes, battling away some leaves.

"Skye? What are you doing? You're not supposed to be here."

"Better question is, what are _you _doing?" she interrogated, staring at him inquisitively. When Michael didn't answer, she answered for him: "You're going to their camp, aren't you," she said.

"It doesn't concern you, Skye, just go home."

He walked away from her but she only followed.

"Michael, this is a bad idea. We should go back."

"What are you talking about?"

He studied her, the pool of blue in her eyes was growing with concern. He tilted his head slightly.

"Is this about the blood sample? Look, I fixed it," he touched her shoulder, smiling to reassure her. "You're safe. Shannon believed our story."

"He did?" She seemed a bit more at ease then.

"Yes, now go. Before they realise you're missing. "

She hesitated. "But what about you? I thought you were done with the Sixers."

"I am," he said. "But I'm not done with Lucas."

Her blue eyes widened. "What?"

"He's working with them, Skye. I need to check it out. I need to prove myself to my father."

"Wait a minute!" She grabbed his arm before he could walk away again. "How can you be sure? And what if he is? What are you going to do?"

He furrowed his brows, looking at her, wondering why she was so panicked. "You would tell me if you saw Lucas. Right, Squirt?"

She bit her lip. She was practically shivering despite the warm temperature. Something was definitely wrong.

"What is it?"

She was wringing her hands together nervously, still biting her lip. "Would you do something bad to protect someone you loved?" she asked meekly, her gaze fearful.

He paused in thought. Of course he would. He had, on numerous occasions, lied and betrayed those who trusted him in order to help loved ones. "Yes," he replied. "I suppose I would."

"No," she practically whispered. "I mean _really _bad." She looked like she was holding back tears. Then he realised this was serious.

"Skye…what is it?"

She took in a deep breath. "I've done something…and I'm afraid it's too late to fix it."

* * *

><p>Michael tore through the bushes. Despite his protests, Skye was still following him. She had revealed everything. He'd be lying if he claimed he wasn't angry with Skye. In fact, he was furious. But even more prominent was his fury and anxiety over what Lucas was planning.<p>

Skye had insisted that she had tried to stall him for as long as possible, but Lucas had been impatient with her, and in the end she was forced to comply with his demands. She was terrified about her mother, and really, Michael couldn't blame her for that.

It took only a short while for them to arrive. Michael could feel a pain in his gut as they were shown up to the canopy where Mira was waiting for them, but he didn't let it show.

"Didn't think we'd see you again," she said.

"You know why I'm here," he growled, surprising even Mira.

"He's in the tent." She pointed. "But I don't think you need me to tell you that you've made a huge mistake coming here."

Michael ignored her, heading straight for the tent at the edge of the canopy. Skye tugged on him. "Michael, wait. Think about this. What are you going to do?"

He slowed down a little. For years he had thought about a reunion with Lucas. It had been five years. Five whole years where he had not seen or heard from his twin brother. They had once been inseparable, now it was as if he had imagined Lucas, as if the bond they shared had never existed. And now, as he was storming towards a potential reunion, he found himself clueless as to what to do.

"I'll go in first," she said. "Let me talk to him."

"No," he argued. That was out of the question, especially considering how Lucas had been treating her these past few weeks.

"I wasn't asking your permission." She smiled briefly at him and then disappeared inside the tent.

Michael wanted to go after her, to stop her, but he felt almost paralysed. So much had built up to this. He had thought about it often, imagined how happy he would be to see Lucas again. But all he felt now was tired and angry, staring at the edge of the tent, too afraid to find out what was on the other side.

Some of the Sixers were staring at him, probably mocking him. They had known all along and Michael had come and gone, still pining over the loss of his brother like a fool. This was it. He had to see for himself. He pulled back the cover of the tent and made his way inside. His gaze was instantly drawn to two figures. One was Skye. The other was embracing her, holding his scruffy head against hers with his gloved hands.

He heard the low voice murmur: _"Thank you, Bucket. I did it. I solved it. And it's all because of you." _There was a sense of urgency in the man' voice, a familiar desperation, and Michael couldn't help but fear who this person really was.

The weary figure stood back, seeing him, releasing the girl from his grasp. His fears were confirmed as he found himself staring at his own brother.

"_Lucas_?" he whispered, disbelief clouding his face.

_Oh God, Lucas. _What a mess he had become. And as a twisted smile began to form between the whiskers on his brother's face, Michael did something he had never expected himself to do in all the times he had imagined this reunion.

He hit Lucas right in the jaw.

Skye let out a gasp as she dodged out of the way. Lucas held his face, groaning, but soon he was standing up straight again, chuckling, wiping the blood from his lip. "Nice to see you again too," he sneered, his teeth showing a menacing grin.

Michael looked like he was about to strike again when Skye grabbed his wrist. "No! Michael, stop."

He did as she said, allowing himself to take in a few breaths to compose himself. Now Michael had the chance to get a better look at his brother. How those years alone in the wilderness had deteriorated him. His clothes were old and worn like rags as they hung off his olive skin. Michael observed his stubbled face, the tired eyes, the shabby hair. And then his gaze caught the long scar protruding from behind his ear and along the back of his neck. He almost winced, the sight of it making his own scars sting.

What he saw was a shadow of someone he once knew, and what was once like staring into a mirror was now like looking at a complete stranger. A stranger who had lied and tormented and threatened his family. He couldn't let him get away with that.

"Five years, Lucas," he said, his gaze steady and unwavering.

Lucas seemed unperturbed. He glanced at Skye before settling his eyes smugly on Michael. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course I did. We both did." He saw Lucas scoff. "It's true. We went looking for you."

"Liar," Lucas said hatefully.

"It's true, Lucas," said Skye.

"Quiet, Bucket," Lucas replied, but his voice was surprisingly gentle.

"You have no idea what you've put us through," continued Michael angrily, his muscles tensing, his heart beating wildly. It all felt like one of his dreams.

Lucas scowled at him. "What I've put _you_ through?" There was a heavy sense of disbelief weighing in his speech. "I literally carry the scars of the past five years on my own body," he hissed. "I had to hunt, fight to survive. And while I suffered through those cold, endless nights alone – exhausted, starving – you and the Commander were living your perfect life, the two of you together, the way it should have been. Do you think I give a second thought to what _you_ have been through?"

Michael was nearly stunned to silence. Did Lucas assume he never thought about that stuff? That he never feared for his brother's welfare during his exile? "I never wanted this, Lucas."

"It's what _he_ wanted!" he snapped.

"Dad never wanted it either."

Lucas twinged at the mention of their father, disgusted.

"Lucas, you gave him no choice. The things you did –"

"—Are nothing compared to what is going to happen now," he sneered. "And thanks to my dearest Bucket it's all possible."

He drew Skye nearer and Michael stepped towards her protectively.

"It's okay, Michael," Skye said, forcing a reassuring smile. It was not convincing.

"Skye told me all about you two," said Lucas thoughtfully. "About how _close_ you two are." At that part he sounded rather hostile. "Like brother and sister. I guess that makes us one big happy family," he added chillingly. He placed an arm around her, drawing her nearer so that he could feel her warmth.

"Lucas," Michael said finally. "What are you planning?"

"That would be telling," his brother teased.

But Michael persisted. "The calculations…it's for the portal, right? You want to make the portal open to 2149?"

"Don't try to talk me out of it," Lucas barked. "This one's already tried," he said, nodding at Skye wrapped inside his arm. "I find it fascinating how she knew so much about me. You've been talking about me, haven't you, brother?"

Michael didn't answer. He saw Skye's nervous look, but she didn't seem afraid.

"Lucas, I can help you. You know there's no way you can get away with this. Not with dad in charge. He'll find a way to stop you."

"He's not a _God_!" Lucas yelled, releasing Skye, bearing his teeth furiously. They watched as he composed himself, his chest rising and falling as he tried to contain his anger. "He's got you all under his thumb, idolising him like some kind of indestructible hero. Well, he's _not_. He's a _coward_." He paused, then he grabbed his jacket and slid it on. "It's all going to end soon. He and his precious Kingdom are going to come crashing down and at the end of it all, he's going to be the one suffering, begging me for _mercy_."

Michael could hardly find his voice, watching as the hate flamed in his brother's eyes. He couldn't believe how much anger he had for their father, the passion and violence in his threats. He could tell he had been planning this for much longer than five years.

"I can't let you do that, Lucas."

Lucas sighed, tired of his brother's protests. He retrieved a gun from his jacket pocket and aimed straight for Michael's head. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, _Michael_."

A look of panic took over Skye's face. "Lucas!"

Lucas threw some wire at her. "Tie him up." When she hesitated, he let his impatience show. "Now! Or I'll shoot him."

Skye resisted, shaking her head. "You wouldn't," she said quietly, though she didn't seem sure.

"Tie him up, Bucket, or I'll have to shoot him, and then I'll shoot your sweet mother." She looked appalled, causing him to soften a little. "Over the past few weeks I've grown fond of you, little Bucket, but if you keep disobeying me I will have no choice but to punish you. And I don't want that to happen. Understand?"

There was something about his voice that was gentle yet chilling at the same time. Michael couldn't make sense of how his brother could say such things, could threaten the lives of innocent people, and for what? All to spite their father? What kind of monster had Lucas become? Michael didn't want to find out.

"It's okay, Skye," he said. "Just do it."

His gaze never left Lucas' as Skye tied the wire around his wrists. She tried to be gentle, but it cut deep into his flesh regardless, making him hiss.

"Lucas, please. I'm begging, just like you wanted. Whatever you're planning, do not do it."

Lucas gave him a pitiful look. "It means nothing coming from you. You may not believe me, but it's not you I want to suffer. The only person I want to pay is our father."

"Listen to yourself!" Michael pleaded. "You sound crazy!"

Lucas grabbed him by the shirt and threw him down hard onto the wooden floorboards. "DO NOT CALL ME CRAZY!" he bellowed, making his guests stare at him nervously. His teeth were clenched together again, his green eyes wild and furious. "Be grateful I'm sparing your life, brother. But if you get in the way of my plans…" he stood up, placing the gun back in his jacket before grabbing his other equipment, "I _will_ kill you."

Michael couldn't be sure if he was being serious, but Lucas certainly wanted him to believe so.

"Don't hurt him, Lucas," begged Skye. She stepped in front of Michael, her eyes watching Lucas desperately. "Please."

Lucas stared at her in front of his brother, saw that look in her eye. He was repulsed. "_Of course_." He nodded bitterly, as if understanding something typical. "You wouldn't be the first girl who's fallen for the golden boy routine," he spat.

Skye was silent a moment, trying to find the right words. "Let Michael go," she urged. "Stay here, with me." Michael stared at her, bemused. He was becoming more and more aware of an established relationship between the two, and he didn't like where it was going.

"_Bucket_…" his brother whispered hesitantly. He kept calling her that. Bucket. He remembered a story Skye once shared with him about how she used to wear buckets on her head. But until now, he hadn't been aware that anyone apart from her mother called her that.

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," Skye continued as persuasively as she could. "Stay. We can have a bit more time…"

Until now, Michael thought his brother had been tempted by Skye's suggestion. "No," he snapped, his face reddening. "I've left it long enough because of you." He paused a beat, calming himself. "Bucket, come here."

Skye exchanged a quick look with Michael, but she obediently stepped closer to Lucas, who bent his face towards her head and kissed her gently, inhaling the many scents of her hair, her skin. "Like I've warned you, Bucket," he began in a low murmur, his lips hovering by her ear. "You must promise not to go back to Terra Nova or you'll get hurt. Do you understand?"

She nodded, holding her breath. She didn't dare exhale until he had retreated from her, those piercing green eyes staring back at her.

"Good. Maybe I will see you again once all this is over." He smiled his first genuine smile since Michael's arrival. "I hope we will." He glanced over at his brother sitting in the corner, obviously not sure what to make of all this. "It's a shame you won't be there to see me leave, Michael, but you have my word, I'll be back soon."

Michael didn't doubt him, his heart still thumping loudly. But just when he thought the worst was over, he saw Lucas steam towards him, grab his head and slam him against the desk.

He heard Skye's cries and could just make out her blurred figure dashing over to him before he blacked out.

_**TBC**_

**A/N: Thank you for reading as always! The finale should be next! But that will more than likely take up quite a few chapters :) **


	23. Chapter 23

Thick as Thieves chapter 23

**A/N: I would just like to thank everyone who is still reading and especially if you're reviewing! Thank you so much and I really do appreciate it! Some of you have asked me if I am writing for season two. Well even though this seems a difficult task I have been writing some notes and think I have come up with some interesting ideas for a season two, so it is possible that I will write for Michael again, but perhaps not for a while. I would most likely be finishing this one and starting a new story for season two, so please subscribe to me if you are interested in reading that as I will not be updating this after it's finished! Also, yes this means I have decided what to do with Wash's death, but you will have to bear with me about that. It might be a while because I have been planning OC stories for The Walking Dead and possibly Falling Skies so if you are interested in those that would be amazing too since you're all so lovely =) Thank you again and I hope you will enjoy these last few chapters!**

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><p>It was the throbbing in his head that woke him up. He felt dizzy. Nauseous. A few moments later and his vision was becoming a little less fuzzy. His brother was gone, as was Skye. With any luck she managed to escape and get help. But as for him…he had to stop Lucas. It might not be too late. Whatever he was planning, he couldn't let it happen. If what he said was true, about the people at Terra Nova being in danger, than he couldn't allow Lucas to travel back to 2149.<p>

He remembered the sonic knife in his boot and he shuffled about on the floor, rearranging himself so that he was on his knees, and then he attempted to reach back into his boot and grab the knife, but it was a bit of a struggle with both hands tied behind his back.

"I told you it was a mistake coming here."

Michael looked up to see Mira enter the tent, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips in a smirk. Michael glared at her.

"If only I had trusted you," he said sarcastically.

"Now you understand what I've had to put up with these past few years – you haven't seen him, so obsessed with his revenge." She looked around the tent. Michael followed her gaze and for the first time, he took everything in – all the papers, the calculations, the notes and the models. It was Lucas' work from five years ago, only long since repaired and developed. Michael felt like he was looking at the scribblings of a madman. He had to get out of here. He slowly pulled the knife from his boot.

"Well maybe if you had enlightened me?" he offered, and she chuckled.

"You won't stop him, you know. He's going through that portal and when he comes back, he'll have a whole army with him. There's nothing you can do." She wandered close to him, enjoying the sight of him tied up, helpless.

"You underestimate me," he said, and then he cut through his bonds and launched at her. He pushed her, but she was quick – and strong – and after recovering from the initial surprise she kicked at his legs, finding the weak spot, sending him back to his knees. She made him drop his knife and she kicked it from his reach. When she attempted to call out, he grabbed her ankles and sent her colliding with the floor. She hit her head on the table, disorientating her, and that's when he made his escape.

He ran across the canopy, pushing past surprised Sixers as they worked. He couldn't waste any time. Grabbing onto a rope, he slid down, the friction burning his hands. By the time he got to the bottom it felt like they were blistering. He got his bearings, ignoring the awful sting, and made for the woods. Lucas could still be at the portal if he hadn't gone through already.

He could hear Sixers behind him, chasing him. He ran like his life depended on it. He was sore and tired but the adrenaline – the fear – gave him the kick he needed. He had almost escaped their camp when he knocked into a large figure. A man. He'd been caught. Dazed, he took a step back. It wasn't a Sixer. But maybe someone worse.

"You." Michael gasped for breath as Curran loomed over him. Not long ago, he had been exiled for a murder. Now what? In an effort to exact revenge upon his father, he had become a Sixer? He certainly looked the part; tired, dirty, downcast. Curran didn't say a word. He grabbed Michael and for a moment he feared that Curran was going to snap his neck or something. But instead he shoved him behind a tree, close to some bushes. Before Michael could question it, he heard the others approaching.

"Which way'd he go?" they demanded.

"Who?" Curran asked.

"That Terra Novan scum!"

"Do I look like I know what you're talking about?" Curran growled. "I haven't seen anyone."

"You're not protecting him, are you, Curran?" Mira pushed through the crowd having recovered from her fall, seething with anger. "After all, you were one of them."

Curran's jaw stiffened. "I told you I'm through with them."

"If Michael Taylor stops his brother going through that portal, there'll be hell to pay," she threatened.

"Like I said, I've seen nobody. He must have gone the other way."

Mira narrowed her eyes at him. She stepped forwards and peered behind the tree, but it was clear. There was no sign of Michael Taylor. Satisfied with the answer, she turned everyone around and ordered they find Michael. Once they were gone, Curran pulled him from out of the bushes.

"What the hell is going on?" Michael demanded, trying to keep his voice quiet.

"I could ask you the same thing," returned Curran, gesturing towards the dispersing crowd.

"Why are you here? Why are you helping me?"

"I'm here to right a wrong. Taylor sent me to find the spy, and to keep an eye on _you_."

Michael stared at him, his eyes wide. "What?" He was confused; finding the spy was supposed to be _his_ job. And what did Curran mean to keep an eye on him?

"You should get out of here," Curran warned.

"But –"

"You need to go. Now."

He was right. There was no time to ask questions. But before he left he asked Curran to do something for him, to get Deborah away from this place. His new ally agreed, and with that they departed.

It was dark, but he found his way. The first thing he noticed was the unconscious bodies on the ground. Terra Novan soldiers. Many of them, scattered all over. He bent down to check some of them and he noticed Riley spread out by a bush, battered and groggy. He knelt down beside her.

"Riley? You're gonna be okay," he whispered to her. "What happened?"

She was too out of it to reply, but she did say one word: "Lucas."

Seconds later, he heard the voices. Three of them. And he recognised them all. Peering through the bushes, he saw Lucas standing in front of the portal, aggravated, shouting at his father and Jim. Of course his father had brought _him_ along for this.

Michael staggered out from his hiding place, his hands in the air. "Lucas, stop!"

"Michael." Lucas actually looked pleased his brother could make it after all. "Why am I not more surprised you managed to give Mira and her band of morons the slip?"

Their father looked from one son to the other, a solemn look on his face, a tight frown on his lips. But it was quite a marvel for Jim, seeing the brothers together for the first time.

"I guess we can officially call this a family reunion," he chuckled darkly, the blue light from the portal illuminating him as he spoke. "Sorry I have to break up the party."

"Lucas," Michael breathed. "Think about this, please. I know you don't want to hurt anybody. We can figure this out."

"So naïve for a soldier," spat Lucas. "There's nothing to figure out…It's a _necessary_ evil. This should have been done long ago." He looked down momentarily, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're both here. The only thing that's kept me alive all this time was the thought of you being here to see this."

Commander Taylor looked upon him with disappointment, a look Michael recognised, the one Lucas had once described to him. But there was concern there too, a wave of mixed emotions. But mainly, desperation. "Son…" He was cut off before he could say anything else.

"DON'T" Lucas bellowed, alarming all three men in front of him. "Don't call me that!" It was as if he could hardly bare to hear it. He couldn't look Taylor in the eyes as his father pleaded with him one last time, trying to appeal to his humanity. Michael saw Lucas' face, the petulant, pouty-looking frown that suggested he didn't want to think about it. Such was his anger and his need for retribution that these innocent civilians would merely be considered collateral damage in the grand scheme of something that simply needed to be done.

"I know what's going to happen," he seethed. "They're going to come and take you off your throne and make you watch while they strip this place and take it for everything it's worth." He was trembling with rage.

"Over my dead body," promised Taylor.

"And mine," Michael added.

"That's the spirit," Lucas said, malice in his voice. "Go down fighting together, for a dream. Some Utopia and all that's right and true! Like father like son, right?"

Michael looked down to the ground, his head still throbbing, his heart breaking all over again. It felt like he was looking at Lucas through glass. It was his brother alright, but a distorted and misshapen version of him And when Lucas spoke the glass shattered, reminding him that this was real, that he truly felt this way.

"I beat you," he said gruffly. "I won."

For some reason Michael was reminded of their games of hide and seek, and how Lucas used to cry when he could never find his brother, whenever he failed. He wasn't that boy anymore. That boy was lost, and what remained of him was this angry, vengeful young man whose words were laced with venom and terror.

"Michael," he said, taking him by surprise. "I really do wish things had turned out differently." He lamented their situation for one more second, letting all notion of an alliance between them slip away permanently. It was clear where both of their loyalties lied. "Next time you see me, I won't be alone," and then he stepped back into the portal, absorbed by the blue light. Here one minute, gone the next. Michael yelled after him, made a run for him, but it was too late. Jim and Taylor had to hold him back before they lost him too.

They couldn't be sure how long it would be until his return. Taylor told them they had to assume Lucas made it through to 2149 like he had planned. He was smart and he was motivated. It couldn't be long now.

Curran brought back Deborah like Michael had asked. And of course, Skye's cover had been blown. She had admitted to everything, but at least now she had her mother. And Mira's cure, thanks to Curran. Some people get their happy endings, Michael thought. The Commander, however, was understandably upset by Skye's betrayal. She had agreed to give him some space rather than to talk to him, but not Michael. He needed answers. He approached his father outside the Infirmary.

"We need to talk."

"You knew," his father said despondently.

Michael frowned apologetically. At least the truth was finally out. No more lies. "I knew," he repeated. And to think, all of this started once upon a time when Michael tried to keep Lucas' secret about the portal, the one that could potentially destroy their home within a matter of days. He was wrong then, too.

"I'm sorry. She asked me to keep it a secret."

Taylor didn't reply.

"But you knew that already, didn't you? This whole thing's been a test. You sent Curran to watch me."

"You lie Michael. And you disobey me. I wanted to see if you could tell me the truth for a change."

"And you thought sending a confessed murderer to the Sixers was a good idea?"

"We can trust Curran now. He's back on the security team as of tomorrow."

"_What_?"

"So are you. I'm reinstating you as Corporal. There's an attack coming and we need as much firepower as we can get. You've failed me, you and your brother, but you're a good fighter and I know you'll do your damned hardest to protect this colony."

"Of course I will…"

"Good." He paused only a beat, but it was excruciating all the same. "I don't think you need me to tell you how disappointed I am in you, Michael."

Michael closed his eyes. He should have been used to it by now, but the words still struck him like a blow to the head.

Taylor sighed. "I know both you boys blame me for the death of your mother –"

Michael looked up at him, stunned. "What? Dad, no, of course not."

"Lucas does. And some nights – most nights – I don't blame him. Maybe if different choices had been made, if I had done things differently, it wouldn't be like this."

"I _know_ you did everything in your power to save her."

Taylor shook his head forlornly, as if nothing Michael could say would make him stop blaming himself. "The point is, I failed you once too. And I'm sorry. For creating this irreparable rift between us all. I accept the responsibility for that."

"Look, whatever I've done in the past, whatever I've said, I will stick by you until the end. I don't care what Lucas says or does, my allegiance will always be here with you."

Taylor gave him one of his cold, hard states. "You can see how I might be sceptical about that," he said. "But I appreciate it all the same. You better get some rest. I'll address the colony tomorrow morning. The better prepared we are, the better chance we have of protecting the colony."

"What about you?"

"I need to tend to some things, arrange for some tighter security in case anything happens. Tomorrow's a big day."

Of course, Michael didn't sleep that night. He kept playing things over in his mind – the way Lucas had acted, the spiteful things he had said. All those years of feeling sorry for him, guilty even. Now he knew how right his father had been, how Lucas seemed to be a lost cause. He had spoken so vehemently about their father, the man who raised him, the man who saved his life. How could he be so vicious about him, about Terra Nova too? They truly meant nothing to him. That much was obvious. But for Michael, they were everything.

Finally, he gave up on sleeping and took a walk. His father still wasn't home when he left. He felt even the moonlight was judging him, illuminating his guilt, his loneliness. He walked towards the crop fields. Everything seemed quiet in this part of the colony. Peaceful. It wasn't at all like they were preparing for a war.

He was taken quite by surprise when a figure grabbed him from behind. Adrenaline kicked in. He writhed and kicked, but he was worn down and tired and whoever it was had a pretty good grip. Another emerged from the shadows and Michael soon realised they were fellow officers. They lunged at Michael, smacking him in the jaw, stomach, kneecaps. He weakened in the arms of his attacker. He stopped fighting back, and even when he saw Mark standing across from him, watching the violence unfold with a grave look on his face, he could hardly be surprised.

"Guess we're not friends anymore, huh?" he managed through a bitter smile. He could tell Mark wasn't happy about this, as if he'd had his arm twisted by his men to allow this attack, and he winced when a fist met with Michael's gut, causing him to double over.

"If anyone else did what you did, they'd be thrown in the Brig and never see the light of day again!" one of the men spat. Michael couldn't say he recognised him.

"You don't deserve to call yourself one of us," another scolded.

"He's had enough," Mark interrupted, pulling the men off of him and leaving him in the dirt. Before he left, he gave Michael one last pitying look. "I'm sorry," he said, and then followed his men back where they came from.

Michael supposed the beating was long overdue. Of course the soldiers felt betrayed, angry. He often felt angry with himself.

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><p>He stood at the back for his father's speech to the colony the next morning. His bruises still felt tender under his uniform, but he had to be prepared for even more violence now. He saw Alicia in the crowd at the front. He hadn't spoken to her since he got back. She looked better today, but then again, she had to be. The colony needed her. He didn't stand with her for some reason. Maybe because he was ashamed, or for some reason he thought he didn't belong there.<p>

The soldiers had been right. If he wasn't Taylor's son, if there wasn't a war on, he would have gone straight to the Brig. Exiled, even. He didn't deserve to be in this uniform. This was his fault. He was the one who let this get out of hand, who let Lucas get away. He should have known better than to keep this all to himself. He hadn't asked for anyone's help, not even Alicia's, and now he had exacerbated a situation that could have been prevented with his father's intervention.

He only caught snippets of the Commander's awe-inspiring speech: "But if we stand together, shoulder to shoulder…we will prevail." He always knew what to say. Michael took one more look across the crowd. All the men, women and children that populated this place…Families, soldiers. Now all of them were in danger because of him.

By the time his father finished his speech, he had already left to prepare for battle.

_**TBC.**_


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Here it is! First bit of the finale; the battle! Hope you stick around and enjoy :)

**Thick as Thieves chapter 24**

The many names etched on to the rock of the Probe's monument were an even bigger reminder of how much was at stake. Even Little Zoe Shannon's name was on there amongst the jumbled signatures of the hundreds of men, women and children who had made Terra Nova their home. Many of the kids were too young to remember when the Probe was sent through the fracture. Michael barely remembered it himself. He didn't quite understand the significance of it then. But now here it was, placed up high to see, symbolising humanity's second chance for survival. Now it meant everything.

Michael had stopped to look at it on his way to his post. The Commander and Jim had left to collect the eleventh pilgrimage, prepared to greet either hopeful civilians or a blood-thirsty army. Whichever it was, Lieutenant Washington was holding the fort, preparing for battle back at home. He continued to stare up at the monument, feeling so small in the Probe's large shadow. It was hard to believe that _this_ was what had determined this world, their new home, to be an alternate timestream. Lucas used to be fascinated by all of this when he was much younger. Michael never cared enough to worry about it, not until their father started making plans for Terra Nova's inception. Sometimes he wondered what future this universe would have. Would it evolve into the nightmare theirs had become? Or would they manage to save it from the same cruel fate?

"Not still feelin' sorry for yourself?" he heard Boylan tease from behind him.

Michael turned around and gave him a faint smile. "At least _you're_ on my side, Boylan."

Boylan's thick brows furrowed in confusion. "What gave you the idea I wouldn't be?"

He looked at him with so much shame in his eyes. "No one else trusts me after what I did. I lied to them all, Tom. All of this is because of me."

"No, all of this is because of _Lucas,_" corrected Boylan. "Haven't I told ya before to stop being so hard on yourself?"

Michael shook his head, an indication that Boylan was wasting his time trying to console him. "My father's angry with me."

"He's always angry at somethin'. The man holds grudges. Let 'im think what he wants. You're okay in my book, kid."

The Corporal smiled briefly before turning his attention back to the monument. "I didn't ask for help, Tom, and I should've. I could've prevented this."

"That's not entirely true. You asked for _my _help. And if you wanna hear what I think, I think you should get over it."

Michael raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if he heard him right. "What?"

"You've heard the things people say about me. I don't care about it. Granted, most of it's true, but still…"

Michael chuckled at that.

"The point is, ya stuffed up, big deal. Focus on what you're gonna do about it."

Michael looked towards the soldiers making their way to the gates, heard Alicia making her orders, everyone preparing for battle. Boylan was right. He was stronger than this. Now was the time to prove himself, to fight back.

"Thanks, Tom."

Boylan smiled at him supportively and nodded. Then he grabbed onto Michael's arm before he could walk away. "Wait. I, uh, want you to have something." He dug in his pocket for something and when he pulled his hand back out, a rusty old coin was laid flat in his palm. "It's an old one, probably a piece of junk but it meant a lot to my boy when he was alive. He…kept it for good luck."

It _was_ old, probably old enough to be a collector's item, but it obviously held plenty of sentimental value for Boylan. Michael looked down at it hesitantly. "Tom, I can't take that…" What if he lost it in the chaos? What if it was stolen or he died with it still in his possession? Boylan would never get it back again.

"Michael," he said, and his tone was the most serious he had ever heard him use. "I want you to have it." He placed the coin in Michael's palm and closed his hand around it. His gaze was solemn and so insistent that Michael somewhat felt as if this was Tom's way of telling him how much he had come to mean to him.

"Thank you," he managed to say. He felt like Boylan was saying goodbye, and he was warmed by the gesture, but he had to leave before things felt too final.

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><p>"Corporal Taylor, you decided to join us."<p>

There it was. The first words she had said to him since he got back from the Sixers. And he had to admit, they weren't quite the words he had wanted to hear. Was she angry with him? Betrayed like everyone else that he hadn't turned in the spy like he should've?

"Alicia…I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Not now, Corporal," she said, barely looking at him. "We have a war to win."

He couldn't tell whether she was angry with him or not, but he realised this was one of those times where they couldn't let their relationship or personal feelings for each other interfere with their professional duty.

His father and Jim had only been gone a few hours. In the meantime, all civilians were taking shelter in their houses out of harm's way, and hundreds of soldiers were positioned around the colony. Michael's post was in the tower by the front gates. The Lieutenant aimed to cover as much ground as possible, switching posts every now and then to make sure every soldier was in their best form.

She was on her way down when Guzman appeared, suited up and ready for battle. "Welcome back," she nodded to him. He nodded her a silent thanks and she darted off again.

"Guzman?" Michael said, surprised. "Didn't know you'd be joining us." He'd assumed Guzman had retired after his daughter's surgery. Truthfully, at the time, Michael never lamented the loss of his former teacher. Guzman had been strict – stricter than Lieutenant Washington – but he supposed he was only doing his job as head of security to prepare them for something like this. Now was the time to see if it had all paid off. "How's Tasha?"

Guzman gave him a small smile as he set up by the sonic cannon. "She's good…Still having a hard time recovering but we've made some real progress. She's safe with Skye and Deborah Tate for now."

"Good to have you back, sir," Private Collins greeted him from the other side of the tower.

"Well, the Commander's counting on us. I couldn't let you fight without me. Besides, if any of you idiots manned this thing you'd probably end up blowing your own heads off."

Michael laughed and looked through his binoculars, scanning the treeline. "You're the boss."

"I hope you've improved your aim since I've been gone, Corporal. I seem to remember Lieutenant Washington giving you countless lessons on how to shoot right."

"I think I'll be fine," Michael replied, taking the comments light-heartedly. He appreciated what Guzman was doing. He wasn't the strict teacher he was – the superior, not really. He was just a fellow officer now, scared and nervous, cracking jokes to make them all feel better.

Michael turned his head when he heard an angry scoff coming from Collins.

"You got a problem, soldier?" questioned Guzman, looking over his shoulder at the young man.

"No, sir," he said dryly. "Just thinking how all of this could've been prevented if a certain couple of traitors had just spoken up months ago."

That was it. Michael threw down the binoculars. "If you have a problem with me, at least be man enough to come out and say it," he said bitterly.

The soldier squared up to him, undeterred. "I'm just saying. You spent months in cahoots with those no-good Sixers. Who's to say you didn't know all along about the attack?

"I say," interrupted Guzman, separating them. "Stand down, Corporal," he said to Michael. "Don't get provoked."

"I am not a traitor," Michael said resentfully. He was done pitying himself. It was time to start defending himself instead, and now his anger was getting the better of him.

Guzman gently nudged Michael back. "I said get back to your post. We can't turn on each other now."

Guzman had a point. Michael was of higher rank, he had to be the bigger man, and he couldn't turn on his own men, no matter how much he wanted to punch that kid in the jaw.

"Trouble up there, ladies?" they heard Lieutenant Washington yell from down below.

"No ma'am," Collins grumbled, turning back to his post with a scowl still on his face.

Michael looked down at Alicia, hoping she would at least be willing to help ease the tension a little bit. "You know how trouble likes to follow me," he joked.

He watched for her reaction but she never even cracked a smile. "I'm going to do another sweep, make sure everything's as it should be. Eyes out at all times," she ordered. "If you see something, give the signal."

Michael didn't reply but he gave her a little salute instead. She then spoke into her radio and began patrolling the perimeter. She was a woman on a mission, she just kept going. Michael trusted that the colony would be safe in her hands. She was the best of the best.

He picked up the binoculars again, wondering whether her coldness was due to her disappointment with him or whether she was just focussed on the battle. Not that _he_ wasn't, but like Guzman he didn't mind a little humour to disengage them from the fact that they could be dead in a matter of hours.

Emotions were certainly high. That was partly why he had let Collins get to him. He had been feeling more and more frustrated by the day, at how he had been dealing with things, at the way he had been treated, and especially at Lucas. He felt like he had been believing in a lie this entire time, thinking that Lucas was the victim in all this. Now they were fighting on opposite sides of a war. Lucas was the bad guy and he had to lose.

Another hour passed and they were beginning to get restless. But they couldn't let their guard down now. Michael had started to forget Collins was even there until he started to lose concentration and bother them with his infernal commentary.

"What I wouldn't give for a nice, cool drink at Boylan's right now," the private sighed, loosening his hold on his sonic.

"Relax, Collins," said Guzman. "Plenty of time for drinking when we've saved the colony."

"When we've saved the colony, we'll be heroes," he grinned widely, his ego growing rapidly at the thought of it. "Well…most of us."

Michael ignored him, letting that one slide. He knew he wouldn't be seen as a hero. Not anymore. And even when they did save the colony, he feared that nobody would be able to look at him without seeing Lucas, the man that they had come to fear and loathe. Especially the Commander.

Collins kept ranting about his new hero status then, boring his comrades, when suddenly they heard the sound of an explosion in the distance. It was faint, but it was definitely something.

"You hear that?" Michael said. He took up his binoculars as everyone fell silent. Wherever it had come from, it was too far away. But then, they could hear the sound of a rover pulling up from behind them and Lieutenant Washington stepped out.

"Alright, we just lost radio contact," she announced. "We have to assume something went wrong. Action stations, let's go."

A barricade of soldiers formed around the colony. Alicia made sure she was right in the centre of it all, leading the soldiers into action. The silence – the tension – was unbearable as they waited. Michael twitched whenever he heard a creak or a rustle. This was it, no turning back now.

It didn't take long for them to arrive. There were so many of them. They marched towards them, greeting them with a wave of violent gunfire. Some of them were in their own rovers and they fired with machine guns. Guzman managed to take one or two of them out with the sonic cannon, but they were ruthless, they kept on coming.

Bullets pattered across the colony like rainfall. Collins was killed almost instantly, his blood splattering over the two men who had no time to mourn over the loss, only to continue fighting. Michael ducked for cover when the shower of bullets came his way. His heart was beating ferociously, but this is what he had been trained for. To be a military man, fighting wars and protecting innocents. This is all he had wanted since he was just a child; to win wars, like his father.

He could just make out Wash bellowing orders below, telling them to fall back as they dived for cover. They were being hit hard. He could hardly hear anything else above the gunfire and screams. The cannons were making the most impact, forcing back the enemy. Every now and then Michael would switch his weapon to the sonic setting, hoping the blast would knock a few of them back. But they were tough. They shot back with similar weapons, aiming for the towers, sending a wave that nearly knocked them out. Then it would be back to the lead bullets, shooting to kill.

Michael got several. In the heart, the head, the stomach. His aim had improved afterall. There was no time to reflect on it, to watch the life drain from their eyes. This wasn't the first time he had killed, but for many it was. Some of them wouldn't be able to hack it, and that's why they kept being forced back. Being trained for a battle you never expected to come was one thing, living the bloodshed was quite another.

Soldiers fell from either side. Reinforcements joined them. Michael's forehead was dripping. His whole body ached – in particular, his arms with which he held up the heavy weapon. His eyes were tired from straining and his head was burning up worse than any fever. And the stench of Collins' body was making him nauseous.

Guzman was cursing aggressively beside him, every time he set off the cannon. Michael had never seen him like this before, losing control, getting more and more agitated as each moment passed. His face dotted with sweat, mixing in with the few drops of Collins' blood that he had accidentally collected from before.

The barrier was breaking down. Soon, the Terra Novan soldiers had retreated to inside the colony and were fending off the outsiders from within the barracks. Lieutenant Washington was screaming something but her voice was drowned out in the chaos.

Things took a turn for the worst when the enemy started shelling the colony. Michael saw it first, and then he was cursing too. Guzman tried to take them out, but it happened too fast. There was a blast that went straight through the gates, rocking the colony, causing a crater to form by the memorial. Dust and smoke rose into the air, poisoning and disorientating everyone nearby. There were a few more blasts. Alicia's discarded rover blew into the air and erupted into violent flames. Michael held on to the side as the structure of the tower shook. The dust had settled underneath his eyelids and so he was squeezing them shut. Then he heard his name being yelled and he opened his eyes just in time to see Alicia running towards the tower, everyone else taking cover. But there was nothing she could do. A shell hit the tower, sending its occupants into the air, the structure smashing to pieces.

Michael hit the ground pretty hard. The pain came immediately. Everything was dark at first, and all he could hear was a persistent ringing in his ears, but then the smoke began to clear and he could see that he had survived the impact, although his entire body felt bruised and battered, and he was covered in splinters. He was buried in dirt and debris, and when he rolled over he saw there was fire around the collapsed tower. But he still wasn't safe. He sensed bullets flying past him and adrenaline made him crawl to his feet.

Not far from him was Guzman, lying on the floor, impaled on a sharp piece of wood. His leg looked badly torn up too and Michael felt the panic return. He limped to him and tried to pull the wood out of his bloody torso, but it was a thick piece of wood and Guzman screamed with agony whenever it made the slightest movement.

"Hold on," Michael said, attempting to pick him up with the chunk of wood still inside him. "Hold on!" He dragged him as best he could through the dirt and gravel towards the Command Centre and he rested him down underneath the stairs. "Stay with me."

But he knew it wasn't looking good. Guzman was losing blood fast; he had multiple injuries, he was having trouble just staying conscious. Michael attempted to examine his wound when Guzman grabbed his hands and squeezed tightly.

"Stop," he breathed, his chest struggling to rise. "I'm…not gonna make it."

"Don't talk like that," Michael said desperately, staring intently at his superior. This wasn't Guz talking. He couldn't give up that easily! He was a fighter; he'd always be a fighter, right to the bitter end.

But Michael could smell his blood, see the life drain from him, his body weakening fast. Guzman knew it too. His injuries were too severe.

"Make sure Tasha's safe," his sullen voice whispered, his grip loosening, and then he was gone. His body fell limply, his eyes closed, perfectly still. Michael drew back, his green eyes wide and brimming with horrified tears. It couldn't be possible. He was really gone. They'd killed him.

He heard more explosions. More destruction. More gunfire, more screams. The enemy had made it into the colony. Michael looked around for his weapon, but it was lost. Instead he pulled out Boylan's coin and held it tightly it in his palm until he felt his nails pierce his skin. For some reason, it reassured him. He started to count down from five, letting the fear and the grief overwhelm him for just those brief seconds, and then he would make a run for it and attempt to grab another weapon. _Four. _He closed his eyes, the ringing in his ears fading into the distance under the sounds of the tanks and rovers rolling into the colony. _Three. _He held his breath, feeling the ground shake. _Two. _He unsteadily got to his feet, his joints aching as he prepared himself. _One. _His eyes snapped open. He searched desperately for an escape, but just then, as an enemy soldier appeared ahead of him and forced a gun right in his face, he heard Alicia shouting at them to stand down and surrender. Reluctantly, he put his hands in the air.

It was over.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Okay so reviews may have gone down, but I'm not! I'm determined to finish this, it's all planned out, I have crazy stuff coming...I hope those who have stuck around will enjoy, thanks so much for reading!**

**Thick as Thieves chapter 25**

By the time Lucas arrived, Michael and Alicia were on their knees, disarmed and surrounded by enemy soldiers. Michael could still sense Guzman's cut-up body a few feet away from him, his blood still warm, and he felt an unbearable helplessness accompanied with his grief. He could hardly look at Alicia next to him, with her own scars, her body almost trembling with the exhaustion and the anger.

Lucas had been driven in on one of their rovers, and it was clear by his expression as he sauntered through the gates that he was thrilled by the sight of the colony's destruction, of its defeat. But then it was straight down to business.

He approached the two, a dark-haired and smug-looking man following behind him like a lost dog, and he offered Michael a sly little smirk. "Hello again, brother. Surprised to see me so soon?"

Michael refused to acknowledge him, an unsettling rage fusing together in his gut. So Lucas continued with his questioning:

"Where is he?" he interrogated, and Michael had to look at him then to show his bemusement.

"_Who_?"

"Who do you think? _The Commander_."

_He doesn't know_, Michael thought as he sighed a quiet sigh of relief. _Then the Commander's alive; he's safe. And he's planning a way to get us all out of this._

Lucas was losing patience fast. This time he addressed both the Lieutenant and the Corporal, looking at them with agitation. "_I said_, where is he?" he demanded. "You two are the closest to him – you must know something."

Michael peered over at Wash. He could see the anger swelling up inside her – that clenched jaw, that strong gaze. She didn't like to be defeated. Michael was sure she was imagining punching Lucas right in his face.

And this is exactly what Lucas seemed to sense.

"Get her up," he barked.

Two men grabbed her and Michael started to panic. They brought her to her feet and restrained her as she attempted to fight them off. What was he going to do? Torture her? Shoot her?

"We don't know!" Michael yelled suddenly. The thought of Alicia getting hurt any more in this futile battle made him find his voice. "We don't know where he is. They went to the Terminus to collect the eleventh pilgrimage, and then we lost contact. That's the _truth._"

There was silence throughout the colony as Lucas examined his brother. Michael could hear the dirt crunching underneath his boots as he walked closer to him, watching Michael's expression, the way he held up his head and stared right back at him with such desperation. Then Lucas turned to look at the enraged Lieutenant, glaring silently from where she stood. "Weaver," he began, turning to the dark-haired man behind him, "She's all yours. They don't know anything."

The man behind Lucas emerged, a sickly smile growing across his arrogant face. Bad vibes radiated from him immediately. "I say we keep her out in public. Make her an example."

"Good idea," said Lucas, and then the two of them briefly began arranging for a list of protocols to be made during the so-called _Pheonix Group_'s occupation. Michael heard mentions of a curfew and a weapons collection, but he was paying more attention to Alicia as they led her away from him. He feared what exactly this Weaver intended to do with her. But he knew she was strong, that she could handle whatever these guys threw at her. He just couldn't help the feeling that it was his fault she would have to protect herself in the first place.

"I'll get on it," said Weaver, bringing Michael's attention back on him and Lucas. As he walked away, Michael watched him give some orders to his men, and then suddenly there was movement as the protocols began to be put in to action. The rest of the Terra Novan soldiers were being escorted elsewhere, but Lucas had other plans for his brother.

"Get up," Lucas ordered, gesturing at Michael still knelt in the dirt. The Corporal struggled to his feet and dusted himself off, and Lucas observed the many scrapes and bruises that decorated Michael's skin. "I see you fought bravely. All a waste," he mocked. Michael didn't break his gaze. Whatever punishment Lucas had in store for him, he could take it. "I want you to stay with me, Michael. That way I can keep an eye on you."

"You worried I'm a threat?"

A chuckle: "Of course not. I _know_ you'll be on your best behaviour. Now come with me."

Lucas took him to the Command Centre and shoved him inside.

"What are they going to do with Alicia?" Michael asked, straightening himself up.

"You're on a first name basis; _how sweet_," said Lucas sarcastically. Michael realised he didn't know anything of his affair with the Lieutenant. He intended to keep it that way. "Don't worry. Our men will take good care of her."

Michael grimaced, unsure whether he was furious or just afraid. All this time protecting Lucas, he wanted nothing more than to hurt him now. But most of all, he feared for Alicia's safety and the situation Lucas had placed her in to.

"It's been so long and this place hasn't changed a bit," he chuckled, but Michael heard the venom in his speech. "I _am_ a little surprised there's no monument dedicated to the man himself by now."

"What are you going to do to him?" Michael asked uneasily. He wasn't really sure how to talk to his brother anymore. The lack of remorse from him was troubling, and every time he opened his mouth, Michael was afraid of what horrible things would come out next.

Lucas slumped down in their father's chair, his expression playfully amused. He looked so wrong sitting there, like a child imitating an adult, looking so small in the rightful place of the Commander. "I'm going to make him watch," he said, sitting back. Michael saw how much he relished this. "Watch while they strip apart this place and remind him of its true purpose. Then I'm going to let him die having proven him the failure he really is."

"Is that what you want? To kill him?"

Lucas sat up in the chair, his green eyes flashing with the same resentment he had harboured for the past decade. "More than you know," he said darkly, and the solemnity of his expression told Michael how serious he really was.

But still, Michael couldn't accept it.

"You can't," he argued helplessly. Now he was the one who sounded like the child. "He's our father…our family."

"So?" scoffed Lucas, jumping to his feet again. "Do you think that mattered to him the day he let our mother die?"

The wound had been reopened; the pain resurfacing like someone had dug a knife straight into his heart. "Lucas…"

"She believed in him too, we all did. But he's not the omnipotent being everyone thinks him to be." The disdain in his voice was rapidly increasing. "I saw him for what he really is; a coward! But you will always think the world of him, deluded brother, you always have."

"He did what he could," Michael defended. "You think he's forgiven himself for that day? He hasn't, he never will. That day changed all of us."

"_You have no idea_," said Lucas viciously, pressing his knuckles to the desk, pushing down hard on its surface. "You didn't see what I saw!"

"Well, whatever it was, it did something to you…because you haven't been my brother for a long time."

"I'm hurt," the younger of the two said in a condescending tone. "Really." He came closer and Michael took an instinctive step back. "Look, I'm not fooling myself here." His voice was a lot softer now. "I _am _on a revenge mission, but my employers have it right. There is no future here; there is no magical land where all our problems disappear. It's a fantasy."

Michael shook his head, seeing the tragic anger in his brother, the sincerity in his voice. He truly believed in what he was saying. "You're wrong, Lucas. Just because _you_ feel anger and _you_ feel pain, doesn't mean everyone else has to."

Another bitter laugh left his lips. "Oh, you'll know what pain truly is soon enough, I swear it."

"So," began Michael, refusing to let himself buckle under Lucas' threats, "what now?"

Lucas smirked, wandering back over to the desk. "I have plenty of work to do for my employers until we find the Commander, don't you worry about that, Michael. As for you – you're going to help me."

Michael snorted. "I would never do that."

"Oh," Lucas said, the violent intensity growing in his eyes. "You will."

"What makes you think I'm any use to you?"

"You idolised the Commander – you spent plenty of time with him, you think like him. You know the colony like the back of your hand. You know people here, you also have ties with the Sixers – you'll come in handy."

Despite his logic, Michael didn't want to believe he would ever let himself be used as a weapon against his own home. But what choice did he have? He was sure Lucas wouldn't have a problem holding a gun to his head in order to force him to do whatever he wanted. He had never hated his brother more.

Lucas sensed his agitation, his exhaustion. "It's been a long day," he said, his tone gentler than before. His voice was so changeable, one moment so loud and angry, the next soft and gentle like he was addressing a friend. "I'll let you bury your dead." He said this like he was doing Michael a favour. "Then you can go home and rest."

"Will you be coming home as well?" Michael asked. It was his house too, after all, but now Michael wasn't sure he wanted him there.

"No." He seemed adamant about that. Lucas stepped towards the door. "Come on, let's go."

Michael followed him onto the balcony outside and took in the horrific sight below. There were many more enemy soldiers marching into the colony now – some with supplies, some with casualties from either side, some with the dead. There were lines of bodies where the market had stood. Michael felt something in his throat, from the sight and stench of the dead, which made him want to vomit. Death was in the air, and it made his stomach turn. Even Lucas was quiet beside him. Wasn't this what he called _a necessary evil_?

They noticed the Sixers start to pour in with Mira at the helm. She looked up at them both, the two of them together, and looked more taken aback at the sight of them side by side than the destruction before her.

"I'll get to work than, shall I?" Michael said bitterly. He didn't want to be next to Lucas any longer. But as he trudged down the steps, he saw Jim Shannon being carried towards the Infirmary on a stretcher. For the first time, Michael felt genuine concern for the man. He rushed down the steps. "Is he…?"

No, he appeared to be breathing, but he was still out cold. And he looked pretty beaten up. He'd be lucky to survive the night. On the other hand, his wife worked miracles. He had to be safe in her care. And perhaps Jim had information on where his father had gone; information that made him invaluable. He _had_ to survive.

The soldiers carrying Jim shoved past the Corporal and continued to make their way into the Infirmary, so Michael started to dig graves.

Michael was digging for the rest of the day with a few other soldiers. One of the Phoenix Group even helped him lay Collins' body into the ground. He'd never be a hero like he so desired after all. None of them would be. Burying Guzman was the worst. He refused any help from the enemy soldiers and a fellow officer helped bury him instead. They cleaned him up a bit and straightened out his uniform and when they put him in his grave and covered him with dirt, they gave him one last salute.

Then he thought of Tasha. He needed to see her, to tell her what had happened , to make sure she was safe like he had promised he would. And Skye! Was she safe too? By now the new protocols had been issued, including the curfew which was now in action. Phoenix Group soldiers had been assigned housing units and those with nowhere else to go were assigned to move in with civilians. Whatever else Lucas and his employers had planned would have to wait until tomorrow.

Once the bodies had been buried and the Phoenix Group occupiers had been given their posts, Michael was escorted back to his house.

"I need to see someone," he said, thinking of Skye and Tasha.

"My instructions were clear," the automatic voice of his guardian responded. "I was to escort you immediately back to your quarters."

"You can't allow me even a few minutes? Not even to tell a teenage girl that her father's dead?"

He was a cold one, too tough to break. These men took their orders seriously, that much was obvious. "You will be collected again at 0:700 tomorrow. Do not leave your unit until then."

The soldier ushered him inside and then – _slam_! He was trapped.

The house suddenly felt very empty. And silent. Nothing but the creaks of the wood in the structure. He stared inside Lucas' room, reminiscing about all the times he had peered in here and mourned, remembered how he had sat on Lucas' bed with Skye and told her all about his poor, missing brother. Now he only felt foolish.

He walked by his father's room next, as empty as Lucas', pondering on where _he_ was this time. It seemed he would never be able to bring his family together again. They would always be at war with one another, missing each other, wondering if they were still alive and if they even still cared.

These were his last thoughts as he climbed sleepily onto his mattress. That and the hope of a miracle as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

It only felt like a few minutes had passed when he was awoken by a loud knocking on the front door. He was blinded by the brightness of the sun, beaming through the windows and illuminating the house. It was 7 already. Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of bed, remembering the events of the previous day, remembering his defeat. He still had Collins' blood on him, and probably Guzman's too. He suddenly felt sick again. Now he really wasn't looking forward to today, or to finding out what was on the other side of that door.

It was another soldier who had come to escort him, although he didn't say what Lucas had planned for him. Michael told him to wait while he scrubbed the blood off his face and hands. He scrubbed until his skin was raw, and then he found his hands were trembling. He realised how much he was reminded of the night Lucas first disappeared. When he fled home to wash off Phillbrick's blood. And just like back then, he felt like this blood would always be on him, like a tattoo, absorbing into his skin and into his own bloodstream. Phillbrick. Collins. Guzman. And anybody else who died because of his mistakes, because of his lies, they would always be there.

His escort was impatient and eventually Michael let himself be taken away from the house. As they walked through the colony, Michael could see most of the Phoenix Group were busy at work already; moving around supplies, collecting tools and machinery, or simply patrolling the grounds. He noticed a few Terra Novans about that morning too, exploring the changes fully since the attack. It was the Infirmary that was getting the most attention, though. Doctor Shannon must have her hands full with the wounded. Then he remembered her husband who he guessed must still be out cold, and Michael thought how desperately he wanted to question him about his father. But then, he most certainly wasn't the only one who wanted to question him about that, and he reckoned it would probably be for the best if Jim was still unconscious.

He heard the squeaking of wheels behind him and he noticed Casey Durwin following them, complaining about the state of the market and the loss of trade. Michael promised him he would try to work something out with Lucas but he was met with more grumbling.

He wasn't surprised when he was taken to the Command Centre again, Lucas' new HQ. It looked like he had well and truly taken over – papers and maps and sketches scattered the desks, along with half-empty bottles from Boylan's Bar and various other weapons and gizmos. There was hardly any trace of their father ever being there.

"Morning, Corporal," Lucas greeted with a snide grin. "It _is_ still Corporal? Right?"

"That's right. And what rank are you in all this?" asked Michael belligerently. "Should I call you Commander now?"

Lucas sniggered. "Call me whatever you want, Michael." He took a swig of his drink and wandered closer, lowering his voice. "Look, it seems we've had a problem with a terminus we brought through the portal. Some Carnotaurus damaged it pretty badly."

"So why don't you fix it?" offered Michael unhelpfully. "You were always the one with brains."

"I'm a very busy man," Lucas said as if this were obvious. "My employers are counting on me to get them the first load of meteoric ore soon, and they are not the type of people you want to disappoint. So, I'm going to be tied up blowing this place to pieces for the next few days." He took another swig from his cup.

Michael felt his body tense with anger. The thought of them ruining the beauty of this place enraged him, just like Lucas knew it would. Michael had always been fascinated with the nature here. Someone destroying it for their own financial gain was despicable.

"Anyway," continued Lucas, "I need you to direct me to whomever the local scientist is these days. I have an assignment for them."

"Good luck with that," Michael scoffed. "I don't think he's going to be fond of that idea."

"Well, you know how persuasive I can be," he smirked. "Look how easily I got your little friend to do whatever I asked of her."

"Don't you talk about Skye." The final straw; he couldn't stand Lucas talking about her like that.

"That's it – _Skye_. I got so used to calling her by her pet name. She's fond of you, you know. But you must know that already. Question is: how do you feel about her?"

"She's like a sister to me, Lucas, so if you hurt her, I swear to God…"

"Hurt her?" Lucas repeated, bewildered. "Of course not. I could never hurt Bucket. She and I got to know each other quite intimately during our time together. As you know, she already seemed to be quite educated on _my_ past…and I found _her_ just as fascinating." He paused, amused by his sibling's obvious irritation. "Besides, if what you're saying is true then she must be a sister to me too, and how could I ever hurt my sister?"

"Just stop," snapped Michael. He was convinced that everything his brother was saying was purely just to agitate him. "I'll show you to the scientist. His name is Malcolm Wallace."

"Perfect," Lucas said. "Lead the way, and then perhaps I will consider letting you visit our new sister."

Malcolm was in his lab with his assistant, clearing up the mess that had been made during the attack. He and McCormick were picking up broken glass from underneath the desk, but he straightened up immediately when he saw the Taylor brothers walk in, along with a couple of those brutes from the Phoenix Group.

This being the first he had seen of Lucas up close, Malcolm was quite taken aback, and he nearly dropped the glass he had been holding. "You must be Lucas," he said, his lips parting in disbelief.

"I've heard you might be able to help me, Doctor Wallace," said Lucas, ignoring the false pleasantries.

Malcolm stood for a moment, unsure how to respond to not only a man who looked identical to one of his comrades, but also to a man who was responsible for the death and destruction caused the previous day. And of course, seeing the two side-by-side proved to be quite unnerving. Michael looked down, sensing the awkwardness of Malcolm's gaze, knowing what must be going through his mind.

He wasn't surprised when Malcolm refused Lucas' orders. But he hadn't expected the soldiers to grab his lab assistant and smash his head through the window. The room was filled with yelling and screaming then, and Michael couldn't be sure who was saying what. McCormick's screaming didn't last long, and then Malcolm was yelling until one of the Phoenix Group punched him in the face. Michael tried to intervene, but Lucas grabbed hold of him and shook his head.

"You don't want to cross paths with these people again," he murmured.

More blood on his hands, more death, and Lucas was trying to do him a favour? Malcolm gave in, wiping the dribble of blood from his nostril, and he agreed to fix the wretched terminus. Lucas made him promise to work as fast as humanly possible, or he'll arrange for some of his thuggish soldiers to lend the good doctor a hand.

Outside, Michael was speechless. He didn't even know McCormick. He had seen him once or twice around the colony, but he had never thought anything of him – now he was all he could think about, lying in that pool of blood, glass shards piercing his flesh. He felt dizzy, the air suddenly feeling cold and poisonous as he breathed it into his lungs.

Lucas sighed when he saw him. "I know that must have seemed extreme."

"_Extreme_," Michael repeated, in shock. "Extreme? That man is dying."

"It wasn't my intention," Lucas said angrily.

"It might already be too late. You need to get him to the infirmary."

Lucas sighed again, exasperated. "Fine, I'll send someone over, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"These are _people, _Lucas. They're not here as a piece in your twisted games. They have lives, families. They have their own work to do, they need to get by."

"I can't afford to think about that, Michael. I have more important things to worry about."

"Food, Lucas. If no one's allowed to hunt and distribute food, people are gonna starve."

"Relax." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not completely heartless, regardless of what you think. There will be scheduled mealtimes, that kind of thing."

"You can't treat these people like prisoners forever."

"These people shouldn't even _be_ here," stressed Lucas. "The only reason this entire colony is here is because of _him_."

"_He _wanted a better future for them. For us."

"You think he's so much better than me, don't you. That you're both morally superior. But how many people are here? About a thousand? One thousand people to restart civilisation, while we let the billions of others back home suffer."

Michael had never thought about it like that before. This second chance in life was limited to the privileged and those few lucky enough to win the lottery. It really didn't seem fair. It made him think, if he weren't the Commander's son, would he have ever been invited at all?

Lucas then called over one of the Phoenix Group who had attacked McCormick. "Take him to see his friend," he grumbled before turning and walking away.

For one second Michael had caught a glimpse of Lucas' reasoning – he had made sense – and that unsettled him. He had been resigned to assuming Lucas was mad, and that he was driven by his own selfish impulse for revenge. But perhaps there was one small part of him which believed he was doing the right thing.

The daunting feeling hadn't disappeared by the time they got to Skye's house, and then he remembered why he was here. He felt a weight on him as he knocked on the door, as if the soil would eventually pull him in and bury him. Seconds later, the door opened and he felt a smaller figure launch at him, wrapping their arms around him.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Skye cried, pressing her face to his chest. "I was so worried, and when they confined us to our houses, I got scared something bad had happened."

Michael squeezed her tightly, ignoring the pain from his wounds and bruises. It was worth it. "I'm fine, okay, Squirt? Hardly a scratch on me."

When she finally pulled away, he saw how tired and pale she was, still in yesterday's clothes. It looked like she hadn't slept at all. Then again, who could blame her? He looked up, seeing Deborah and Tasha appearing much the same. He guessed her other friends were back with their own parents, given the situation. Deborah was looking much better, although still worn down. He gave her a nod, and then his eyes drew back to poor Tasha in the background. She looked scared to death.

"My dad?" she almost squeaked.

Michael drew in a breath, his face solemn as he remembered burying Guzman's cold, stiff body in the dirt. "I'm so sorry," he said morosely, and she immediately collapsed into a fit of tears. Mrs Tate had to pick her up and Skye went to embrace her.

Michael watched, feeling the guilt press against him. All sympathy – or even empathy – for Lucas dissolved and he was left feeling enraged and resentful again. This girl had lost her father - a good man, a brave soldier – and for what? So Lucas could deliver iron to his greedy corporate employers? It was wrong, it was all wrong. Enough people had lost loved ones, enough good people had died. And now as he watched the tears spill from Tasha's damp face, her body limp in Skye's arms, he thought how Terra Nova had come from being a place of life and beauty to a place of death and misery, all overnight.

**TBC**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Been getting some reviews asking me to continue this. Don't worry, I definitely am continuing! Still writing this, just a bit slow due to end of year assignments and other stressful stuff, but I am still here and I am still working on this fic :) I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Thick as Thieves chapter 26**

"What do you think's gonna happen?" Skye asked apprehensively as she picked at the stale fruit on the plate in front of her. This was all they had left over from the market, and it was now the best lunch they had to offer. Michael had lost his appetite, staring down at his own plate, hearing Tasha's sniffling as she tried to settle down to sleep in the next room. The girl was so grief-stricken and exhausted she could hardly stand up, so Deborah had taken her to get some much-needed rest.

"Don't worry about it. We'll think of something," Michael promised, although he had his doubts. "My dad's still out there. He'll find a way to get us out of this…he's the bravest man I know."

"What if he can't?" Skye's lips dropped in a pessimistic frown. Michael missed that playful smile, the one that brightened up the room.

"Hey," he said gently. "Trust me." He placed his hand on top of hers. "Everything will be okay."

She looked into his eyes, but she didn't seem to feel any better. "I betrayed Lucas," she confessed. "He's gonna want to see me…he's gonna be angry with me." Her eyes dropped to the fruit, no intention of eating it as she tore off the hard skin around the surface.

"Look at me, Skye." She did. "I won't let him hurt you."

She nodded, smiling sadly. But then Michael couldn't shake what Lucas had said to him, about their time together, how close he'd said they'd become.

"Those weeks you spent together," he finally said. "What happened? Lucas, he…he seems to be fond of you. I've never seen him like that with anybody before."

She paused a moment, the sad smile deepening, and she sighed. "It's complicated…but…I thought I could get him to listen to me, you know? I thought I could convince him not to do what he was planning on doing. I thought that could at least make up for all the trouble I've caused, maybe stop people hating me."

"Nobody hates you," insisted Michael. "You're part of this colony, and right now we all need to stick together."

"I guess." She smiled again but there was still a sadness in her blue eyes. He felt like she was holding something back about Lucas, but, unsure how to pursue the subject any further, he let it drop for now.

They heard soft footsteps and they both looked up to see Deborah shuffling out from the other room, her breaths still heavy and weak. Skye went to help her.

Michael stood. "Are you okay, Mrs Tate?"

She smiled. It was the first time he had seen her smile, and she looked much like her daughter when she did. "I'm much better than I was," she replied. "The medicine is helping a lot."

Michael was relieved. He remembered the cure taking a while for Alicia too, but Deborah had been ill for a long time. He imagined that the treatment would take some more time before she was back to normal health again.

"Tasha's asleep," she added. "Poor girl." She put an arm around Skye. "I'm so lucky to be back with my little girl, where I belong."

Michael was glad for them; at least something good had come out of all this.

"I've been told you took good care of her while I was away," said Deborah, looking up at him. "And that you protected me while I was in the care of those people. Thank you, Michael. For everything you did."

For a moment he wasn't sure how to respond. He had never imagined being thanked. He had been locked up, ostracised, punished and deemed a threat for his actions. But now, here he was, being thanked for his good intentions. "Of course," he said quietly, and he couldn't help but smile a little, just to show what a relief it was not to be seen as a traitor for once.

A loud thumping noise at the door interrupted them and a member of the Phoenix Group came to take Michael away, claiming Lucas had assigned him to dinner duty.

He didn't want to leave. It felt right being here with Skye and her mother and Tasha. Especially with Guzman gone, it felt like he was betraying him if he left Tasha now. But once again, he had no choice.

There was no sign of Lucas on the way to the market, but Michael did bump into another unwanted guest as he was being escorted. She looked at him like she always did, like she was looking down at an ant, relishing her superiority over him.

"Nice to see you so soon, Michael," said Mira, the smallest smile creeping into the corner of her mouth.

"Wish I could say the same," Michael replied, the mere sight of her making his blood boil. She knew she had won, and she wanted Michael to know how all those months of torture and resistance were always leading up to this, right to this moment. But she didn't always win. "How's your head?" he queried, recalling how he had escaped from her captivity just days ago. He took pleasure in seeing her smirk drop then. But she didn't let it deter her from taunting him.

"From what I hear, we're going to be working pretty closely for the time-being. Just like old times."

Michael said nothing in response; he let her gloat. She may have had her own reasons for doing all of this, but it didn't lessen the resentment he felt for her. After so long of wanting to be free of her, spending even more time with Mira felt like an extra punishment for his crimes. What was one more to add to the list of ever-growing reasons why his home had become his own personal hell?

And the worst of it was being totally and utterly powerless. Lucas had tabs on him 24/7, Wash was God knows where; he had no weapons, no strength left. Plus, the Commander was completely off the grid. The only man who might be able to help was lying unconscious in the infirmary. But even if he did wake up, how was Michael going to get to him before the others did? His mind started to process all the possibilities. There had to be a way…

"That hope you're holding on to – you may as well just let it go." Mira broke him from his thoughts, dragging him back into the horrible reality. She didn't seem so smug anymore though. "Trust me," she continued, frowning. "It's easier if you just accept it." With that, she pushed past him and left him to his assignment.

Michael was given the mundane task of handing out trays and cutlery to the colonists as they queued for their meals. At least with this job he could feel like he was actually doing something to help his damaged community while they were under the watchful eye of the Phoenix Group. But the tired, pale faces he was met with told him that people had already given up on repairing what was lost. There was no longer any judgement in the tired gazes of these people, only helpless desperation. And it made him feel worse.

When he saw Doctor Shannon emerge from the long queue, he noticed how incredibly worn out she looked – the long hours taking care of the wounded was taking its toll. This looked like her first break in a long time. He greeted her with a sympathetic smile as he handed her a tray. And then he asked after Jim.

She offered him a weak smile, bags forming under her eyes. "He's still unconscious. But he's stable for now."

"I'm pulling for him," Michael said, and he meant it too.

"Keep moving," barked one of the Phoenix Group men, shooting them a cold look.

Elisabeth gave Michael another brief smile before moving on. He spotted her daughters not far behind, looking equally as pale and anxious. He supposed that Maddy was considering the possibility that Reynolds had been killed. Michael had. No one had any idea what had happened to him after the attack. He was either with the Commander, or dead. Michael remembered the last time he had seen the Corporal, standing idle as his men beat him to a pulp. He decided he would still mourn the loss, however. He would still grieve – if not for Reynolds, then for the poor young woman who had fallen in love with him.

"Hey, stop!"

Her voice rose up above the crowd and curious heads started to turn. Michael saw two enemy soldiers standing by Maddy Shannon, harassing her. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but she looked bothered by their commentary, especially with her young sister on the other side of her. It was unbearable not intervening. He tried to look away, biting down hard on his lip, trying to block out the argument, but when one of them grabbed her, he knew he had to do something.

He pushed the soldier away from her, and the guy snapped.

"Hey! What's your problem?"

"You better not touch her again," threatened Michael.

"Or what?" the arrogant soldier persisted.

"She's not interested in you, okay? Just leave her alone." He glanced at Maddy and her sister, both looking pale and anxious beside each other.

"You have no say in what we do here, Terra Novan," the second soldier declared angrily. "If we want a girl, we'll have a girl."

Enough; Michael hit him, even though he was sore from battle, even though he expected another beating. He socked him and he didn't regret it. Not even when the brutes smacked him back and restrained him and took him to see Lucas and Weaver at Boylan's Bar.

They pushed him down the steps so that he fell into an empty table and when he looked up he saw Tom standing ahead of him, his expression full of nervous relief.

"Michael…glad to see you in one piece," he said, smiling faintly.

"I wouldn't speak so soon, Tom," Michael said before the soldiers grabbed him again and took him over to a table where Lucas and Weaver were sitting. Maps and empty cups were scattered all around them.

"He was causing trouble," one of the men explained, shoving Michael forward.

Lucas tutted: "You were always drawn to mischief. Why don't you sit down, Michael?"

The soldiers were dismissed and Michael sat down. He had never felt so uncomfortable sitting in the bar. The place was full of Phoenix Group soldiers, drunken and disorderly, laughing loudly as if they hadn't a care in the world. The only friendly face he recognised was Tom's, and even _he_ looked tired and nervous as he dashed from table to table, serving drinks to the enemy,

"How was our lovely sister?" questioned Lucas, smiling. Though each smile he gave seemed more devious than the last.

"She's fine, no thanks to you." He frowned, thinking of Tasha again and how, right now, she probably felt like she would never be fine again. "Do you have any idea what this barbaric army of yours has done?"

"They're not _my _army," Lucas replied, leaning forwards. "They're our employers' army. And whatever they want, they get."

"So I've heard," Michael said, sitting uncomfortably in the wooden chair.

"They're not like your Terra Novan soldiers," Weaver added, his tone condescending. "They're skilled killers. That's what makes them so good."

"Good?" Michael retorted. "You know they killed a girl's father." He looked at Lucas, scrutinising him, trying to find at least a shred of humanity in him. "I was with him when he died. I saw him take his last breath." Michael felt the rage burn inside him again, the image of Guzman's destroyed body, his daughter sobbing on her knees at the loss.

"People die in wars," Lucas said.

"It could have been me, you know."

His brother looked away from him. "You chose to fight on the _wrong side_."

"No!" snapped Michael, banging his wrist on the table. "_You_ brought ruthless killers to a peaceful place. You did this. They're murderers."

"So are _you_," his brother hissed, his voice low and angry, green eyes flaming. "You _and_ the Commander. Murderers, killers. Even heroes have a little blood on their hands," he added resentfully.

Michael froze, feeling the two of them stare at him, feeling them judge him the same way he was judging them. And he knew he deserved it, he was just as bad, because Lucas was right. He was a murderer long before this battle. The image of the General's skeleton laid out on that table still made him feel sick with guilt.

"Weaver," said Lucas, his voice calm again. "Why don't you give my brother and I a moment?"

His accomplice nodded, scooting back his chair and heaving himself up as if the loss of his presence had some big significance. Michael was still scowling at him when he had left for the bar and started to bark more orders at poor Boylan.

But then, beyond them, in the corner, he only just caught a glimpse of her. Sitting there alone. Miserable. All hope lost; his dear Alicia, drowning her sorrows. He could tell by the look on her face, her troubled frown – she blamed herself for all of this.

He wanted more than anything to go over there. To take her hand and tell her this wasn't her fault. It was _his_. And he wanted to fix it. He couldn't bear the thought of her punishing herself for his mistakes. If only he could sit with her, even just for a moment…

But he couldn't let himself. He couldn't let Lucas know how he felt about her. His brother already knew that he could use her against the Commander, but if he knew he could get to Michael too…there was no telling what Lucas would do just to spite him.

"All of this could have been avoided if you had just let things take their course," Lucas snarled from across the table. "But you just had to intervene. You just had to save our father."

"He doesn't deserve to die," Michael said quietly, as if in a trance. "He's a good man, a good leader, and this colony is our home. Whatever you want me to do, I won't do it. I won't turn against my home."

"Really?" Lucas said, unimpressed. "And how many times have you met with the Sixers? Lied to the Commander, just to cover your tracks?"

Michael's guilty silence spoke for him. He looked down at the table, at the maps and diagrams sprawled out over it.

"Just as I thought," Lucas continued. "You've betrayed this colony more times than you can bare thinking about. And now everyone knows it. You've been working for me long before today."

He was repulsed by the thought, but it was true. The box had been Lucas' all along, not Mira's, and he had given it to her and set all this in motion.

"Now, you're going to help me find him."

"I told you," Michael huffed. "I don't know where he is."

"But I think you do. You see, the irony of all this, dear brother, is that even though we are the twins, it is you and our father who are identical. All of that military training he tried to drill into us, it only stuck with you, and I know you'd at least have an idea of what his next move would be…"

Michael hesitated. "I _can't_. I'm not as good at tactical thinking like him…"

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Lucas told him, failing to seem sincere. "Just give me an idea. What's he planning? An attack?"

There was a pause as Michael thought it over. He imagined his father, out there in the woods, gathering whatever remained of his men. Formulating a plan. "No," he said, still thinking. "You have too many civilians. He knows you can use them as hostages. He won't risk it."

Lucas sat back in his seat. "Fine. _So, what_?"

Michael thought again, considering all the possible tactics, how right now it seemed like Lucas was winning. Did his father really have any moves left? Then he realised. Maybe that was the point. The skilful player was the one who waited, who observed. There was a famous phrase his father used to say. He could hear his voice inside his head, reminding him: "_Strategy requires thought, tactics require observation"_. He suddenly felt less alone, that maybe hope was closer than he thought.

"_Michael_."

"It's like a chess game," he remarked, watching his brother's impatient gaze. "He's waiting for you to make your next move."

Lucas scoffed. "So he's hiding in the bushes like the coward he is."

"_No_," Michael said. "He's waiting to draw you out, while your defences are low and there's less at risk. Then he'll make a move."

"And what can he possibly do?" Lucas said derisively. "There's no way he can get to us."

Michael allowed himself to smile. "It's like you don't know him at all."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Weaver!" he called.

Weaver appeared by his side, another cup in his grasp.

"Make a note," continued Lucas, his gaze not leaving Michael's. "Tomorrow we pay a visit to the quarry. Bring some explosives."

"What are you doing?" demanded Michael.

"My_ job_. The quarry will just be the first of many more sites we plan to excavate."

"What happens when you've succeeded in mining this place to oblivion? What happens when it's all gone?" Michael urged, desperation in his voice. "Then there's really nothing left for humanity!"

"Humanity will find a way," Lucas answered coldly. "It's in our instincts to survive. Even if it means the suffering of others."

"Survival of the fittest and all," Weaver smirked. "Those at the top of the food chain survive the longest."

"You mean those with the deepest pockets," Michael ridiculed, finding the presence of this man even more unpleasant.

"It's the way of life," Lucas said.

Michael didn't believe it, but his brother obviously did. His outlook on the world was as bleak as his own heart. Was this all because of their mother's death? Had her murder truly made Lucas this jaded? Or was someone else responsible for drilling such ideas into his head?

"Since the quarry is Sixer jurisdiction, Mira will be our escort," added Lucas, already scribbling busily onto the map on the table. "And Michael, you'll be accompanying us too."

"Me?"

Lucas nodded. "It's no secret Mira isn't fond of me," he said. "She responds better to you – she likes you."

"_What_?" Michael was an endless list of questions. Just the notion was ridiculous – Mira despised Michael as much as he despised her. Didn't she? And after what happened at the Sixer camp before the attack, Michael was convinced she wanted to murder him.

"She must find the hopeless, good guy act endearing," Lucas mumbled, getting to his feet. "Anyway, I need you there in case the Commander shows."

"Why would he be there?" asked Michael, confused.

"The chess game," replied Lucas, as if it were obvious. "I'm making my move."

_**TBC **_


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **_Sorry this update has been slow! I was writing this one right in the middle of my essays and moving out of my accommodation. But it is the holidays for me now, so I will try to be quicker :) _

_Also, thank you Vic for all your messages. I haven't been able to reply to you because you're on guest :) Just so you know this won't be updated daily! But I will try to update this more often. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story :)_

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><p><strong>Thick as Thieves chapter 27<strong>

"No sign of him yet, sir."

Michael overheard the conversation as he heaved the rock onto the transport. Soaked with sweat, he took a second to wipe the moisture from his forehead. The heat from the sun warmed and darkened his pale skin, making him feel like he was in one of those hideous glass domes. Lucas was by the rover, talking with a soldier. They had been here for two hours already and the Commander hadn't showed. Lucas never was good at hiding his frustration. He chewed his lip angrily, scowling as Michael and a few other soldiers helped harvest the meteoric iron. He stormed over to the transport where Michael was resting.

"You can't stop now," he ordered curtly.

"I just needed a moment," Michael said, his voice stifled by coughs. "We've been here hours. I'm tired, dehydrated."

Lucas huffed, annoyed, before turning back to Weaver who was overseeing the work from the shade. "Weaver – hand me the water."

Weaver tossed the canteen to him and Lucas shoved it into Michael's chest.

"There," he mumbled. "Don't tell me I never give you anything."

Michael had to resist rolling his eyes as he took a sip of the cool water, soothing his dry throat. It at least helped quench his thirst, but it did nothing to help the fatigue or the pain in his muscles. He was running on four hours of sleep, not to mention the stress his bruised and battered body had endured the past few days.

"Is this it?" Lucas complained, his judgemental gaze scanning today's haul.

"I told you there wasn't much left," said Mira as she came up behind Michael, shooting him a brief look. Michael turned away from her. He didn't care if she was fond of him, found him amusing or entertaining or whatever it was Lucas meant. She had made life hell for him for months – for Skye and her mother too. In his eyes, she was just as bad as Lucas, even if she _was_ doing all of this for someone she loved.

"Fine, it doesn't matter," replied Lucas. "We can mine more another day, make a new quarry. For now we're just biding our time."

"Biding our time for what?" Mira questioned.

Lucas turned towards the jungle, at the vast scenery of green plants and green trees, his hand on the gun in his holster. "Until the Commander gets here."

Weaver didn't seem so sure, standing there in the shade, enjoying his rest and the sight of rock forming into dollars right in front of his eyes. "You think he'll show?" he asked sceptically.

Lucas looked over at him, squinting in the sunlight, still unaccustomed to it after so long living in the shadows. "If Michael's confident, then I'm confident."

Eyes turned to Michael, who was starting to wish he had never said anything. He knew it wouldn't stop here; he knew tomorrow would lead to bigger and darker things. They'd dig at this quarry until it was all gone, then next they'd destroy another part of this world, and another, and another until everything was just as grey and dull and dead as the world they had left behind. Until they had bled the earth dry.

But Michael found himself wishing the Commander would show just as much as Lucas. If he really was out there, watching, didn't he see the suffering they were all going through? Why wasn't he helping them? Couldn't he do something – anything – to prove he hadn't abandoned them like Lucas claimed?

The jungle was silent. There were only the sounds of the wildlife and the wind and the digging of the axes as they tore through the rock.

Then, as Michael began to feel the ache behind his eyes again, thudding in time to the rhythmic digging of the soldiers' axes, he heard Lucas tell them to set the explosives.

"No," protested Michael. "You can't blow this place up."

"You know it's intriguing," said Lucas condescendingly, "that you still think anything you say matters to me."

"He's right, Lucas," said Mira. "What's the sense in wasting explosives? There's nothing else here."

"I want to get his attention, that's why." Lucas was already collecting the device from the rover while Weaver ordered the soldiers to evacuate the quarry.

"You wanna be careful with those?" snapped Mira, folding her arms over her chest.

Lucas had the nerve to give her a wink. "I'm always careful."

Mira rolled her eyes and walked away, giving up.

"This is a stupid idea, Lucas," Michael warned. "He's not going to show."

Lucas had the explosives in his hands, but he looked up at Michael so he could see how serious he really was. "I suggest you find some cover, unless you want to end up in pieces."

It was useless to try to convince him. Michael took cover behind the vehicles and just happened to find himself next to Mira. If he could, he would have ignored her, but Mira had a way of getting under his skin, even when she wasn't saying anything. But in this case, she couldn't resist.

"Whatever Taylor did to your brother, it must have been pretty brutal," she said, and Michael could hear her judgemental tone. "What the hell did he do?"

"He saved his life," admitted Michael, immediately sensing Mira's confusion. He still felt it too. Maybe he would never understand Lucas' reasoning. Over the past couple of years, Michael's relationship with the Commander had deteriorated – he had felt resentment, betrayal, guilt – but he could never imagine having such a pressing desire to kill him, his own father. He was still the man who raised him, who read him bed-time stories and took him to school and taught him how to fight. He could never kill him; never.

But Lucas could. And Mira. And whoever else their employers hired to overthrow him.

"You can't trust them, you know," Michael said to her in a hushed voice. "Whoever you and Lucas are working for."

"You have any better ideas?" she challenged.

"Join the good side," he suggested. "We believe in second chances. You can start a new life, at Terra Nova."

"Not good enough. I want my daughter. Besides, the good side isn't doing so hot at the moment."

_Worth a try_, Michael thought. But secretly, he was relieved. Once they did get the colony back, he didn't relish the thought of seeing Mira there everyday, even if she was interested in redemption.

Moments later and the ground was shaking from the explosions, rock and mud and debris flying up into the air. And it was _loud_. Michael had to shield his ears as they rang from the blasts.

But the Commander never came.

"I swear to God, Michael," Lucas threatened as they were packing up to leave, his voice low and his face so close Michael could see just where the scar below his ear began, "if you're lying to me, if you know where he's been hiding all this time…"

"I _don't_," Michael reaffirmed, sick of all the interrogations and the distrust. "I already told you."

Lucas shook his head, clearly irritated and disappointed. But he also seemed mad at himself, that he allowed himself to believe it would be this easy. "Well, in a short while we'll have bigger toys to play with; he can't ignore that. And I'll be ready for him."

Of course they had brought more weapons with them. What did Michael expect? Just how much destruction should he be anticipating in the next few days?

* * *

><p>Michael didn't sleep any better that night. The house was so quiet. The silence was unbearable, and the ringing in Michael's ears was even worse when the house was like this. He could sense the soldiers patrolling outside his door, the spot lights floating past his window, illuminating the entire room. And when he eventually did get to sleep, pushing out thoughts of scorched earth and loud explosions, he dreamt once again of he and Lucas as children, of his beautiful mother, and what things would have been like if his father had chosen her instead.<p>

Then after he woke up, he kept himself awake, trying to decide if such thoughts made him as sick and evil as the men who had done the killing in the first place.

He wandered what Lucas was doing, where he was sleeping, if he was sleeping at all. He remembered the disdain in Lucas' voice when Michael asked if he was coming back here. His hatred for their family house must be great if he refused to even step foot inside it.

But the next morning, Lucas surprised him; he came back home.

There he was at the door, hands in his pockets, glancing around the place as if it were all new to him.

"Lucas?" Michael caught him there after breakfast, after changing into a fresh shirt and combats. He tried to read him, wondering how he felt to be back here after so long. Was he feeling nostalgic? Sad? Guilty?

"Funny how things seem smaller when you outgrow then," he said. Then he proceeded straight to his old bedroom, untouched since Skye's departure. Michael doubted he would even be able to tell someone else had slept there during his absence. He didn't seem to be in a sentimental mood as he immediately began to open his drawers and cabinets, grabbing his old clothes and notebooks and whatever else he had stored in there.

Michael followed him and watched, perplexed. "What are you doing?"

"Collecting some possessions that got left behind after I was banished," Lucas grumbled. "Nothing of dire importance, but I would appreciate some new clothing." He started sifting through his closet and throwing everything into a box. "It's one of the few benefits of being back here," he said. "Clean clothing, warm beds, not having to fight my meals to the death every time I find myself starving."

He rested the box underneath his arm and showed Michael the scars on his hands, the scars from his conquests. Michael looked at him. What did he want him to say? That he was sorry? A few years ago, he would've. He would have begged his brother for forgiveness. But now, having seen what he'd seen and heard what he'd heard, he wasn't so sure he could feel as terrible anymore.

But he did wonder about the one on the back of his neck, and whenever he looked at it he couldn't help imagining the horror of what caused it. Lucas noticed him staring and he automatically reached his hand up to it, feeling the damaged tissue where the sharp teeth had pierced his flesh. But he wasn't offended, he wasn't self-conscious. He seemed oddly proud of it.

"You know, you can fight me all you want, Michael. I don't care if you don't want to help me, if you still pledge your allegiance to that hypocritical son of a bitch. Deep down, you _know_, I _will_ beat you."

Michael chewed on his lip. He was nodding, but he wasn't agreeing. "If that were true, then why do you have me following you around on a leash?" he challenged. "You don't trust me. You know there's still a chance I won't take this lying down, that maybe, as you say, I _am _more like our father, that once I get the opportunity, I _will_ fight back. And I will _defeat_ you."

He could see Lucas' hot-headed temper starting to unveil itself. "Oh really?" he scoffed. "I'm not afraid of you, Michael. I don't find you a threat. You don't have to follow me around today if you don't wish to."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"At the moment we're in the process of surveying which areas have the highest meteoric iron counts. Once they're identified in a day or two, we can begin excavation. We don't need you right now." Lucas stepped closer, lowering his voice, mocking his brother. "So you have until then to work on your little resistance plans with your teenage accomplices, or whoever you think your friends are, and then we will get straight back to work. Understood?"

Michael didn't appreciate Lucas belittling him, but he still nodded, relieved to have even just a little time off to do what he wanted for a change.

"And don't bother trying to kill me," added Lucas. "Weaver is here to take my place. And even if you dispose of him too, there will _always _be somebody to take over."

Is that what Lucas thought? That his own brother wanted to assassinate him? "Lucas, I'm not going to try and kill you," Michael said, stunned by the suggestion. How could he believe that? They had their differences, they had their allegiances, but Michael had and always would love his brother, no matter what ill-natured things he had done. There would always be a speck of light in the darkness, some goodness buried beneath all of that evil. Maybe Lucas seemed like a lost cause right now, but there must be a way to get through to him.

"You're saying you wouldn't be able to sacrifice me if it meant saving your beloved colony?" Lucas questioned disbelievingly.

Michael didn't want to choose. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He had taken life before, and it wasn't something he found easy, but to take the life of someone he loved was a different story entirely.

"Because to tell you the truth," Lucas continued, avoiding eye-contact, musing on it for a moment. "I would be prepared to sacrifice you."

_Oh_. The ringing in his ears vibrated deeper into his brain, getting louder and louder. He began to feel strange, as if he had imagined those words coming out of his brothers' mouth. So he would rather be alone, to have his only remaining family left murdered, their blood eternally staining his scarred hands, than to be defeated in his petty quest for revenge.

But at least he knew. He knew just where his life ranked in his brothers' list of values. He knew that if it came down to it, if Lucas had a chance to complete his mission and kill their father, he would be able to dispose of Michael just as easily if he were in the way. It made him think, after all these years growing further and further apart, is this really what they had come to?

"Lucas…" Michael said, his throat dry and uncomfortable with a lump that made his voice sound weak and pathetic. "What's happened to us? We used to be so close. _Friends_."

"I remember things a little differently," Lucas returned callously. "Enjoy your day off," he added with sarcasm, gripping the box in his hands as he left the house and slammed the door behind him.

The house was still and quiet again, and Michael looked down at his own clean hands. Compared to Lucas he'd had it easy, he knew that. But he still had his own scars, his own battles to deal with. He wondered, if the roles were reversed, if he had been the one cast out to live in the dirt amongst the beasts that lurked in the forests, would he have also lost sight of his own moral compass? Would he be prepared to murder his own family to exact revenge? He thought not. But his brother was living and breathing proof, wasn't he? That someone so harmless and naïve could evolve into a reckless, blood-thirsty maniac?

Still, today he had been given a gift. And he knew exactly how he was going to spend his time off. He headed straight for the bar to see a certain Lieutenant.

* * *

><p>As Michael walked down the steps, his eyes met Boylan tending to some Phoenix Group soldiers, and the barman nodded to him and pointed towards a table in the corner. Sure enough, there she was. Several cups decorated her table as she slouched in her seat, her long dark hair obscuring her face, as if she were trying to hide. He stared at her for a moment. He had never seen her so…defeated.<p>

He sat down opposite her, concern etched into his face as her troubled gaze met his.

"Michael," she whispered, a tiny smile forming; a smile of relief.

"Are you okay?"

She sighed deeply. "Apart from having to spend my days with these drunken bozos? Fine. I'm fine, honestly. Are you?"

"Don't worry about me," he smiled, seeing her look more at ease already. "I've been wanting to talk to you…I missed you."

He took her hand, knowing he was safe enough to at least do that in the absence of Lucas and Weaver.

"I missed you too," she said, gently brushing her thumb over his knuckles. The motion calmed him. He had felt so alone without her, locked up in that house with nobody, he wished she would just wrap her arms around him and embrace him. But this was nice, it was something.

He cleared his throat. "We didn't get a chance to talk before the attack. I'm sorry for lying to you. About Skye. I wanted to tell you."

She looked down and smiled, as if she felt it wasn't worth fretting about. "I know. It doesn't matter now." Then the smile disappeared and she swallowed hard, appearing miserable again. She had bigger things on her mind; bigger regrets. Michael knew what that felt like.

"You did everything you could," he said soothingly, squeezing her hand. He wanted her to know that he believed in her, that he was proud. But she wouldn't accept it.

"If that were true, we would have won," she asserted, frowning. "I failed. I failed everyone."

"Stop." He couldn't bear hearing her talk like this. "Stop punishing yourself."

"This coming from someone who's been punishing himself for the past five years," she scoffed.

Michael softened, dropping his gaze to the table, realising how right she was. He gave her another smile, one he hoped would transfer on to her. "Well, maybe we both ought to be a little easier on ourselves."

For a second, as Alicia looked at him, he thought he saw a spark of the old Lieutenant returning to him. She gripped his hand tighter. Then she parted her lips as if to speak.

"What's goin' on out there?" they heard Boylan ask loudly, interrupting them. They both turned to look at him on the floor above, peering out of the window. There were others watching too. Then they heard a woman's voice shouting from outside.

"I better check it out," said Michael. Alicia nodded.

Once he was outside, he could see all the carnage from the attack still littering the colony. He tripped over craters and discarded wreckage, noticing two Phoenix Group men yelling and raising their weapons at a man and a woman in scrubs. But he was smiling, because despite all of this, the waiting was over.

Jim Shannon was finally awake.

**_TBC_**


	28. Chapter 28

**Thick as Thieves chapter 28**

Jim took some convincing before he decided he could trust Michael. Granted, it didn't look good. Michael was always by Lucas' side, joining the enemy in their evildoings, escorted by soldiers who looked like they were his body guards rather than his prison guards. To any bystander, it might have looked like he was part of it.

The day after Jim had woken, Michael met him in the queue whilst they were collecting their rations and tried to explain what was going on. Jim stared at him silently, as did his son beside him, considering whether or not they believed a word he said.

"Look," Michael said, making sure the enemy soldiers couldn't hear him, "I'm on your side. I may have sympathised with my brother once, but not anymore. You gotta trust me. I want out of this mess just as much as you do."

Jim stared at him a second longer, still unsure, still keeping up the pretence that he had been injured too severely by the blast to communicate. Lucas may have fallen for it, but Michael knew Jim, and he knew he was still in there somewhere. His thoughts were confirmed when Jim nodded. "Can't be too careful. They think I know where the Commander is."

"And you don't?" Michael asked, disheartened. _Great. Another dead end. _He should have known better than to pin all his hopes on Jim Shannon.

"I don't know what to tell you, kid. I've been out ever since the explosion – I thought _you_ might know where he is."

"Me?" Michael glanced between father and son who were both staring at him like he had all the answers. "I don't."

Jim didn't seem too worried about this. "Nevermind. We think we might be on to something anyhow. Elisabeth found something written on the bullets that wounded the Phoenix Group soldiers. Think they're co-ordinates."

"Co-ordinates?" Michael repeated, his mind trying to make sense of it. "Co-ordinates that lead to my father?"

"Think so."

Michael smiled with relief and for a moment it really seemed like the two were actually tolerant of each other. Then he had an idea of his own.

"I heard Lucas and Weaver talking about going to the valley later. They want me to go with them. They're going to set off some kind of device so they can mine it." He saw Jim's expression fall, his son silently looking down at his shoes next to him. "I can sneak you into their transport. You can meet with the Commander and find out what's going on."

"Good idea," Jim said. "Maybe if we have enough time, we can stop them blowing up the valley."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Leave it to me. We'll figure something out. You just keep your brother busy."

"I'll try," promised Michael, and then he watched with disgust as a spoonful of slop fell into his bowl.

"Bon appétit," said Jim sarcastically.

* * *

><p>Michael had not seen the valley from this view for some time, but it was still just as breath-taking as he remembered it. The rich colours, the sounds, the smells; it was just as peacefully awe-inspiring as when he first saw it, at eighteen years old, still just a kid who had seen nothing but grey and pollution and ugliness for his entire life.<p>

And now he was about to witness it all again.

Lucas introduced him to a man called Hooper, a Commanding Officer of the Phoenix Group. He looked just as ruthless and empty and greedy as his soldiers, dollar signs in his eyes. It was because of him that Guzman was dead, because of him that his father was missing, because of him that his home had become a prison. It took all his strength not to grab one of his soldier's guns and shoot him in the foot with it.

"Glad you could accompany us here today, Corporal," Hooper grinned conceitedly through his pasty features.

"Go to hell," retorted Michael, surprised by his own hateful words.

Lucas seemed taken aback too, but there was also amusement in his wide eyes. "Manners, brother. I thought you were taught better than that," he teased.

Michael ignored him and tried to block out the conversation as they then began to go over their violent plans and discuss the size of their bank accounts and how Weaver was going to buy a dome of his own when they returned victorious to 2149. Instead, he tried to focus on the fact that Jim was on his way to meet with the Commander. Michael wished he could have gone himself, but with Lucas keeping a close eye on him, he had to make do with helping Jim sneak aboard their transport to meet with him instead.

"What about you, Lucas?" he heard Weaver ask. "What will you do with your share? This is all possible because of you, afterall."

Michael glanced over at Lucas who seemed disinterested in the entire conversation. Not once had he smiled, not like Weaver, who wore a toothy grin from ear to ear whenever the subject of money was brought up.

"I didn't do it for the money," murmured Lucas, peering through the binoculars at the land they planned to destroy.

And it was true. Not once had Lucas talked enthusiastically about the money. Not for himself anyway. For him it was all about revenge. Michael wasn't sure if that made him better or worse, but it was probably the latter.

Weaver scoffed and they got back to discussing how they were going to clear the area of the wildlife. At which point, he grabbed Hooper's weapon and aimed straight for a Brachiosaurus. The poor creature fell with a loud thud that echoed through the valley.

"There. One less problem," he announced cheerfully.

Michael was too late to protest. Instead, he bowed his head, rage boiling up inside him. He feared if he looked at that impulsive idiot any longer, he would lose his temper for sure.

"They're harmless," he heard Lucas comment, almost forlornly, as if he agreed Weaver had been hasty in his actions.

"Whatever," Weaver said.

And then Michael heard Hooper mention plans to bring in several more pyrosonics. Weapons that could mine half the continent, that could, as Weaver so elegantly put, create "one hell of a barbeque." Michael rolled his eyes. If there was one person worse than his brother, it was this guy. But all the while, Lucas' tight smile told him he couldn't care less about all of this, that what he really wanted was still somewhere out there, hiding just outside of his grasp.

"We should get down there," Lucas suggested. "Weaver, stay here with the trigger. Keep an eye on my brother here."

"Why do I have to babysit?" Weaver complained, visibly annoyed.

"Well, we want him to have the best seat in the house," smirked Lucas, patting Weaver on the arm. "It's going to be quite a show."

And suddenly it was obvious why Lucas was dragging Michael around to places like this, subjecting him to the misery and destruction they were causing. He wanted him to see it. He wanted him to suffer.

He stood by a Phoenix Group soldier, another headache beginning to form as Hooper and Lucas prepared to head down in the rover. There had to be something he could do. What kind of soldier would he be if he stood idle and watched them blow this place to nothing? What kind of man would that make him? He had to do something, even if he failed, he had to try.

But Lucas and Hooper were already gone and it was just Weaver and one remaining soldier who were left, staring at him. Weaver's gaze was cold and annoyed. "If I had my way, I would have tossed you in the Brig days ago. Maybe even shot you by now."

Michael's jaw stiffened. Weaver was all talk, Michael knew that. But it didn't make him any less pissed off: "Well, you're not getting your way."

"Not yet," Weaver threatened, the control still in his hand, his fingers hovering over the trigger.

It seemed like ages. In which time, Michael was sure Weaver was going to act on his words and kill him then and there. But instead he waited, each second his anxiety and his hatred growing. He wondered what Jim was doing, if he had caught up to the Commander yet, if they were doing something to stop this. He wondered what he could do up here, with an armed guard and a man who had just admitted to wanting him dead. But he continued waiting.

Until he heard a voice over the comms; Lucas' voice telling Weaver to set off the pyrosonic.

_No._

Weaver smirked at Michael as he raised the trigger.

_No, no, no. _Michael thought about all that life down there in the valley – all that beauty. It was a symbol of everything humanity had lost and regained. He couldn't let history repeat itself. He couldn't let more children grow up in a place where there was no hope. Only death. Death and more death. And it all started here.

He launched into Weaver, without even thinking, and he dropped the trigger. He may have been smug, but he was no fighter, and Michael found it easy enough to pin him down. Weaver yelled and tried to kick him off, but Michael was much too strong for him. The Phoenix Group soldier, however, came to Weaver's rescue, dragging Michael off of him. But desperation gave him the strength he needed. He flung the man over his shoulder, immediately disabling him. His father taught him that.

Weaver was crawling towards the trigger. Lucas' voice kept yelling over the radio: "_We're almost clear, Weaver, just blow it! Blow it now_!"

This couldn't happen.

Michael ran and kicked away the trigger from Weaver's reach. But then he stopped, feeling a sharp sting in his calf, and he looked down to see Weaver had a knife in his hand. Michael's head was spinning. He saw the red of the blood through his trouser leg, the red in his eyes, and he took his foot and stepped on Weaver's neck.

"Stop!" the man choked, clutching onto Michael's wounded leg, his face turning purple. "I can't…_breathe_!"

_Good_, Michael thought, and he pressed down a little harder. He realised he had an opportunity – to really hit back hard. To kill Weaver – for Guzman. Hell, even for Collins. And for everyone else who had suffered just so the greedy could bask in their riches. Then there would be one less bad guy to fight; one less evil in the world. _One less problem_.

Michael moved his shoe up closer to Weaver's chin, and he began to choke and splutter even more. Sweat dotted Michael's forehead, his head pounding, and as the fear in Weaver's eyes grew stronger, the man's body only grew weaker. This was it. He could do it right now. It was simple.

But…_could he_? He had killed before, but he had also lived with the consequences.

Oh, the consequences.

What was he doing?

He stepped off Weaver and he rolled over and gasped for air, coughing and spluttering onto the floor. Just then, he was grabbed from behind, the soldier from earlier having recovered from his fall.

"Kill him!" Weaver demanded, still wheezing for air. "Kill him!"

The soldier went for his gun, but then another angry voice interjected: "Weaver! What the hell is going on?" Lucas and Hooper were rushing towards them, enraged. "Why didn't you blow it up?"

"Your psychotic brother nearly killed me!" Weaver cried, struggling back to his feet.

Lucas turned to Michael, startled. Michael cried out in pain, but not because of his wound. His head was killing him.

"What's wrong with you?" demanded Lucas impatiently.

"It's nothing. I get… headaches," he muttered in response.

"_He_ has a headache?" Weaver said incredulously, pushing back his dark and sweaty hair.

"Shut up!" Lucas hissed. "We need to blow the valley right now. My father's down there." He snatched up the trigger from the ground and pushed the button several times.

"No!" Michael's heart pounded as hard as his head. But by some miracle, nothing happened. Perhaps Jim and the Commander had found a way to disable it afterall. _Thank God_. But Lucas lost it. Seconds later and he was grabbing a rocket launcher, sending a stream of smoke across the valley, straight for their father. Michael watched with terror as there was a loud explosion and eruptions of fire. _Death and more death_. He tried to free himself from the soldier's grip.

_Oh, no._

_Had he…?_

"Lucas, what have you done?!"

Lucas ignored him and took the binoculars from one of the men, cautiously looking for any signs of life. Michael guessed that their father had made it, since Lucas' reaction was to throw down the binoculars and curse at the top of his lungs, making everyone jump. It was a cry so loud and furious that the people all the way back in Terra Nova must have heard it.

Michael was the only glad one, smiling with relief. There was still hope.

But the fire in Lucas' eyes flamed like the explosion he had just inflicted on the valley. He paced angrily, his breaths quick, muscles tensed. He looked like he was liable to attack someone at any moment. But that someone had escaped – Lucas had failed again – and that fact made him murderous with rage.

* * *

><p>Later, when they had returned, Michael was allowed to have his leg bandaged up at the Infirmary despite Weaver's insistence that he should be thrown in the Brig. The panic and business of the first few days had calmed down significantly, and even though things still looked bleak and hopeless, there was a feeling of calmness in the building, as if people had come to accept their roles in this New Terra Nova. While he was there, Michael asked whether Jim had made it back yet.<p>

"Not yet," said Doctor Shannon, tightening the bandage around his wound and making Michael wince. "I'm sure he and the Commander are okay."

"I hope so."

She paused and sat up in her chair, her friendly face once again full of sympathy. "And how are you, Michael? Aside from all of this. How's your head been?"

He didn't want her to know the truth, that they had been much worse since the attack, that it felt like a constant ache throughout each day, that it made him feel so much more angry and reckless that he feared what he was truly capable of. Instead, he smiled gratefully back at her and shrugged. "Not too bad, considering."

But once again, his lying had backfired and Elisabeth wasn't convinced.

"You should tell me if something's wrong. I might be able to help," she offered kindly.

Everything was wrong. Everything about today. He'd never be able to forget it. "It's just…seeing Lucas….he's not the Lucas I knew, that's all. And if someone can change just like that…can become so angry and cruel…"

"You're not him," Elisabeth said, practically reading his mind. Her smile was comforting; understanding. "Nobody thinks you're going to be like Lucas."

He couldn't help thinking she was just saying that to reassure him. If Jim was still suspicious of him, then there must be many more who questioned his loyalty too. "I've already proved myself untrustworthy," Michael said, thinking of all the times he had betrayed his colony, his friends. "And we already look alike, so why wouldn't they expect us to act alike?"

"Because you belong here," she said, her voice gentle and caring. He knew then, whatever she said next he would listen. "You fought for us when we needed it most. You proved where your allegiance is. We know you're on our side."

She stood and took his hands and he felt her place something in them. He looked down, confused.

"Trackers?" he questioned, noticing three little devices in his palms.

Elisabeth leant closer, lowering the volume of her voice. "Jim has an idea to plant trackers on the Phoenix Group army so Commander Taylor can keep tabs on them."

That _was _a good idea. Michael felt disappointed that he hadn't been the one to come up with it first.

"He's planning to use transponders to plant on their vehicles. But he has a special task for you – three trackers…"

"For three bad guys," Michael finished. "And let me guess the Big Three: Mira, Weaver…and Lucas."

She nodded. "You're the only one who can get close enough to all three of them."

"You know it's not going to be easy," Michael sighed, still staring at the trackers in his palm, trying to think of how he was going to do this. Weaver would probably be the easiest – too worried about the crawling insect type of bug to worry about an electronic one. The other two, however, were not so simple.

Again, Elisabeth nodded. "The resistance needs you to try."

Biting his lip, he clasped his hand around the trackers, suddenly determined. "I'll do it."

Leaving the Infirmary, Michael now had a mission; a purpose. He could do something to help. Something real. He could finally fight back.

But he knew it wasn't going to be all that simple. Lucas was smart, Mira vigilant, and if they caught on it was game over.

But the colony was counting on him. _His father_ was counting on him. Maybe then he would see, Terra Nova was always his top priority, and he would do whatever it took to put it back in safe hands.

He would worry about it more tomorrow. But for now, as he entered his empty house, greeted with a desolate silence, he downed his sleeping pills and prepared for some much-needed rest.

**TBC**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Hello again and thank you for all your lovely reviews. We are now one step closer to the end! I'm still getting questions about writing for a season two, so I will mention again that I hope to write for Michael in what would have been a 'season two' sometime in the future, but it will likely take a while. I do have ideas though. I also would like to point out I have vidded for Michael in a few OC collab videos with littletonpace. You can search my username jemmalynette on youtube to try and find them if you are interested! Thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**Thick as Thieves chapter 29**

The plan was in full swing. Word of enemy soldiers and their rovers being attacked outside the gates were soon circulating around the colony. The resistance was fighting back with a vengeance.

And Lucas was furious.

Michael watched as his brother swept everything off of their father's desk, sending it all clattering to the ground. Weaver's bitter gaze was finally torn from Michael, watching the other Taylor brother with a slightly unnerved look. He was probably afraid of what Lucas' temper would make him do next. It seemed everybody lived in trepidation of that.

Mira had already left with some of her people to explore what was known as an area called The Badlands. Michael didn't know why, but apparently their mysterious employers had shown an interest in the place. He had only heard rumours about it himself, not enough to explain the reasoning behind the excursion. Even Mira seemed confused about the order, but she wasn't about to disobey the people who had her daughter.

Before she left, he had managed to slip one of the thumbnail-sized trackers in one of the smaller pockets of her rucksack. When she saw him hanging around her rover, however, she approached him suspiciously, her dark eyebrows raised.

"What are you up to, Corporal?" she questioned in that stern, hardened tone of hers. "You looking to hitch a ride to freedom?"

He chuckled mirthlessly. _As if_. But at least she hadn't seen him place the tracker. He presented himself coolly, leaning against her rover, making her see he wasn't threatened by her; not anymore.

"Just looking for answers," he stated guiltlessly, "about these so-called Badlands you're going to."

"Oh yeah? What about it?" She pushed past him and started going through her pack. Michael swallowed nervously, seeing her hands brush against the pocket containing the tracker.

"I was just curious, that's all. We always thought that nothing was out there. You must know _something _if they chose _you _to go there."

Sighing irritably, she discarded her rucksack – much to Michael's relief – and turned to give him an unfriendly frown. "Look, I don't know what's out there. I don't pretend to know what the hell it is those people want to achieve, I just do what I'm told and hope they're satisfied."

"Right. Because they have…"

"Sienna. Yeah. So when they say '_jump_', I say '_how high_?' Understand? It's not my job to question their motives."

Michael felt that pang of sympathy for Mira that he had buried long ago, that he had tried not to feel. "We could help you get her back, you know."

She almost laughed at the ludicrous proposal. "Yeah? And how are you going to do that?" When Michael failed to respond, she rolled her eyes. "Just stay out of my way, okay?"

She shoved past him again and into the rover, Michael watching them drive away. And Lucas says she _likes_ him? He was finding that harder and harder to believe. But at least that was one out of three trackers planted. Hopefully his father's team would keep tabs on her and maybe discover why on earth she had been posted out there.

Meanwhile, it was obvious the plan was working. Michael didn't need any more evidence except the angry red in Lucas' cheeks and the frustrated scowl in his expression. Reports of attacks had been happening throughout the evening. Lucas figured it out soon enough.

"Someone's helping my father," he fumed, his hunched shoulders rising and falling with the heavy weight of his breaths.

Everyone was silent, waiting for Lucas to come up with a solution. But he never came up with one. Instead, he took Michael by surprise when he offered to buy him a drink.

Wasn't he just throwing a tantrum because their father was winning? Shouldn't he be in a panic? Trying to take action?

No; he wanted a drink. And he wanted Michael to figure out who was helping the Commander.

* * *

><p>Even with the warmth of the alcohol inside him, Michael was discontent once again at Boylan's Bar. Sitting there with his brother who, just moments ago, was tearing up the Command Centre in a fit of juvenile rage, Michael could see Lucas was now calm again, staring down at his cup with a melancholic glare.<p>

"Even when he's abandoned his own people, they still fight for him. I'll never understand it," he muttered, hunching over the table as Michael stared at him.

"He hasn't abandoned us."

"Oh yes, I forgot," mocked Lucas. "He has that master plan to save you all – every last one of you. If he had any ounce of sense, he would run deep into that unforgiving forest and never, ever come out."

"Why?" Michael asked. "Because that's what you did?"

He was met with an icy stare, yet still another sinister smirk. "Just tell me. How did the Commander know about those rovers?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Lucas looked unconvinced, but in their silence they overheard Boylan tell Josh Shannon to give their table a refill. The younger Shannon shuffled hesitantly over to their table and poured the brothers another drink.

"Another Shannon, huh?" Lucas asked, dismally amused. "You seem to be everywhere."

Josh, unwisely, put the cup down a little too hard. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" he offered miserably.

Michael felt for him. He'd noticed the kid seemed down ever since the attack. He remembered Skye saying something about a girlfriend on the eleventh pilgrimage who hadn't survived the explosion, but with that in addition to everything else, it was no wonder he was in pain.

Lucas stared down at the cup, annoyed. But he seemed to notice Josh's downbeat attitude as well.

"You look sad," he deduced, looking up at him – he must have recognised that look. "You didn't lose a friend in all this, did you?"

For a second, Michael thought he may have been genuinely sympathetic for the boy. But no. He found it pitiful, perhaps, and Michael sensed the sarcasm laced in his words.

"Buck up, Kid," Lucas added, the condescension in his voice much clearer now as he stood and dug in his pocket for something. "Here's a terra. Go buy yourself a new friend."

"_Lucas_," Michael hissed as his brother sat down again. Josh quietly slunk away and Michael continued to chastise his brother, feeling like his parent all of a sudden. "What makes you think you can treat people like that? You of all people know what it's like to lose someone you care about."

Lucas' eyes flashed with hate once again. "Exactly!" he snapped. "He thinks he's the only one who knows what suffering is like? I _know_ suffering."

Michael would have tried to argue further, no matter how futile it was, but Lucas had sprung up all of a sudden, a smile growing on his stubbly face. Michael turned to look in his direction and saw that Skye was coming down the steps.

"Skye?"

"Bucket. So glad you could come," Lucas greeted her. "Please. Sit."

She sat opposite Lucas, a frown fixed on her lips. Lucas sat too, bearing a toothy grin. He was the only one smiling. Well," he began cheerfully, "here we are. The perfect family reunion. All we need now is the old man."

Michael and Skye glanced at each other, unsure of what to say.

"Is that it?" Lucas asked with faux disappointment. "It's been so long, and we finally have the opportunity to talk properly – is there nothing you want to tell me?"

Nothing; only the banter of the men in the background and the distant sound of cups being clinked together in morbid celebration.

"Well, then, how about I start?" Lucas leant forward, glancing between the both of them, the sly smirk still in the corner of his mouth. "As I understand it, we all have something in common." He let that statement sink in for a second, watching the expressions of his companions; he had their attention. "Like it or not, we have all betrayed the Commander at some point. We have all felt the wrath of his anger, his – disappointment.

Michael's jaw tightened. This was the last thing he felt like discussing, and judging by Skye's despondent look as she gazed down at her twitching hands on her lap, she felt much the same.

"What I would like to know is…what_ did _the Commander say when he forgave you? Either of you? I'm curious."

Both were silent, and as the silence grew, so did Lucas' arrogance.

"Oh, don't tell me," he said, amusement in his voice, "you are as forgiven as I am."

"What we've done doesn't compare to what you're doing," Michael snapped. Lucas seemed surprised.

"You know I'm not just talking about the invasion, Michael."

Michael stared at him, unsure whether he wanted to say what was on the tip of his tongue. He knew Lucas was convinced their father blamed him for what happened to their mother in…

"Somalia?" he intoned.

Lucas shook his head. "For being born," he answered, sitting back in his chair and bringing his cup to his lips. "For the unforgivable act of...being born."

He seemed lost in his own thoughts then, maybe even saddened. There was enough regret in his green eyes to last a lifetime.

"How can you say that?" Michael ventured, appalled.

"Easily," Lucas mumbled. "Because it's true, brother. We both know the Commander has always preferred you to me. You were his perfect little golden boy. I was the oddball, the outcast." He leant forward again, his eyes suddenly wide and intense. "He never _wanted_ me. There was never supposed to _be _a me. It was never supposed to _be_ twins. It was always supposed to be you."

"_What_?" Michael whispered, hardly able to find his voice, hardly able to understand how Lucas could truly think this. He glanced over at Skye, as if for some confirmation, but she was just as lost for words as he was. "Lucas, dad cared about you. He –"

"Don't," said Lucas sharply. "Don't tell me about how he loved me and how he just wanted to help me. Don't tell me he _saved_ me. Just don't." He sighed. "We are just sad, pathetic, broken little toys to him. The moment we disappoint him, he's ready to throw us in the trash."

"That's not true," said Skye, the sudden appearance of her voice almost making Michael jump. She was staring defiantly at Lucas.

Lucas seemed almost sympathetic. "Oh, but it is, Bucket. And I'm sorry. I know how much it must hurt you. Both of you. I just want you to know, it's okay, because you don't need him. We have each other now."

Michael watched Lucas place a hand on top of Skye's. She didn't move a muscle, but she did break his gaze and stare at his hand, as if thinking. He wondered what was going on in that head of hers. He wondered if she was being swept up in Lucas' manipulative words just as he once was.

Or maybe she was contemplating a way to get that tracker on him.

When Mira had been given her orders to explore the Badlands, Lucas had summoned Skye for a meeting at the Command Centre. Lucas had seemed captivated by her, as always, springing up immediately, eager to have the presence of her company. Michael watched as they both talked on the balcony, and although he couldn't hear their voices from inside the Command Centre, there was something about the way they stood and looked at each other. Skye didn't seem as afraid as he thought she might be, and Lucas looked as though he was hypnotised. Was this all in Michael's head?

He had scrutinised the way Lucas had delicately placed one of Skye's loose curls behind her ear, the way he leant so close to her. Skye frowned but she didn't recoil. She walked away after he was done talking, and Lucas watched her, the trace of a smile on his lips.

Michael had gone over and over it in his mind and it was becoming obvious that Lucas had some kind of infatuation with the girl. But this had given him an idea.

During all the madness with the attacks, Michael had got a message to Skye; a message containing the tracker. If Lucas had no issues getting physically close with Skye, then it made sense that Skye would be able to plant a tracker on him without him even noticing. Affection made him careless. The moment he let his guard down, that was their chance. But he only let that happen with Skye, it seemed.

It looked like she had received the message and was willing to at least try.

"Could I get some water?" she asked hoarsely, clearing her throat. She seemed to be directing the question at Michael, who after a beat stood up from his chair and offered to get some for her.

He was a little apprehensive about leaving the two alone together, but he figured the water was some kind of code word. Maybe she needed Michael out of the way before she could plant the device on Lucas? Besides, he was hoping to find Alicia anyway, perhaps ask her how things were going on her end.

When he approached the bar, there was no sign of her. But he felt relieved to see Tom on the other side, offering him a friendly – albeit slightly worn – smile.

"How're you holding up?" Michael asked him.

"Aw, I can handle these guys, no problem," he insisted, although Michael could tell he'd been having a tough time. "How are you doin' with…?" He nodded towards Lucas who was still talking with Skye – about what, he couldn't tell.

"Horrible," confessed Michael, folding his arms over the bar and leaning lazily against it. "He's not what I thought, Tom. All this time fighting for him…worrying about him…he's become so angry, hateful."

"Five years in the jungle with nuthin' but dinos, Sixers, and burning hatred for ya old man - I'm surprised he has any marbles left."

Michael frowned and found himself glancing back over at the two, and now Lucas had his hand by Skye's face, timidly tracing his fingers along her jawline. He handled her like a precious jewel or something, like she could snap in his fingers. Michael had never seen him like this before. The way he stared at her, he looked rather child-like, mesmerised, enchanted by her delicateness, her beauty.

But she wasn't delicate. She shook off his advances, and although this went against the plan, Michael couldn't help feeling relieved. He asked Boylan for Skye's water, and when he turned back, he saw instead that Skye was holding his hand, the tiniest coy smirk playing at her lips, and he began to wonder how much of it was really an act.

"I swear there's something not quite right about those two," he pondered aloud to Tom as he came back with a new cup.

"When it comes to Lucas, nothing's right."

Michael sighed, taking the cup and then smiling briefly at Tom. "Oh, Tom…if you see Lieutenant Washington, tell her…." Tell her what? What could he say? "Just tell her I was looking for her."

"Will do," Boylan smiled understandingly.

"Thanks, To—"

_**CLANG!**_

The noise surprised him, causing him to drop the cup and send liquid spilling onto his leather boots.

"What the…"

_**SMASH!**_

He looked up and Josh Shannon was at the table with a tray in his hand. Lucas was on the floor bleeding, disorientated. But the astounding thing was that the kid kept coming back for more. He grabbed Lucas' head and punched him right in the face.

"JOSH, STOP IT!" screamed Skye at the top of her lungs, but it was too late for that. The damage had been done, and someone was going to pay the price.

Two Phoenix Group soldiers had grabbed the boy, restraining him, and Lucas quickly composed himself.

"Hold him up," he ordered.

Now he was _really_ angry, wiping the blood from his lip. He was going to use Josh as an example. Michael saw the humiliated anger in his eyes, but also – relief; relief that he could finally take all that anger and frustration out on somebody.

The men held Josh back and Lucas took a swing.

Skye yelled at him to stop. Michael headed over there, pushing through the forming crowds, but just as he did, he was stunned to see Skye grab Lucas' arm and turn him to face her.

"Please stop," she begged. "He was just trying to help."

Lucas stared at her, his eyes scanning every inch of her pretty face, taking in the desperation written all over it. He looked as though he might have been swayed.

But he wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Bucket. He has to pay."

He turned to the men who held up a weakened Josh, hanging loosely in their grip. And the beatings continued mercilessly. Michael had to intervene. He was just a kid – _Jim Shannon's_ kid – and Michael knew how crazy he could get when one of his children were in danger.

He pulled Lucas away from Josh and immediately he recoiled at the contact. He shoved Michael back.

"Lucas, stop this! He's just a kid!"

"Just a kid?" he scoffed. "But old enough to challenge me." He turned to Josh and shot him a menacing glare. "I say let him prove himself – how much pain can he _really_ take?"

He went to hit the Shannon boy again when Michael caught his fist, stopping him.

"Foolish choice, Michael," he seethed before punching him in the gut with his other fist, forcing the older brother to his knees. Then Lucas pushed him down further and left him there for the soldiers to deal with. When was it that he became so strong?

"I've gotta say, I'm a little hurt," Lucas said softly as he strode over to one of the tables and propped himself up against it. "I've been nothing, if not generous, in my treatment of you people."

Two soldiers pulled Michael to his feet; he could do nothing but endure Lucas' smug little speech, inwardly scorning at the use of the word '_generous_'. "You brought this on yourself," Lucas continued, his condescending gaze locked onto Josh. "And now, I'm going to have to make an example of you –"

_**SMASH!**_

It took Michael a few seconds to realise what had happened. Skye must have run off to get Jim Shannon, and now he had attacked Lucas with all his strength and fury. He probably took one look at his son and felt his instincts take over – instincts to make Lucas suffer.

Michael's eyes jumped from his brother sprawled out on the floor again, to Skye who had followed in behind Jim, to the man himself who seemed to be taking out one soldier after the other.

Was he _insane_? Michael called out for him to stop. Did he want to get himself imprisoned, or worse, killed? But he seemed to be doing pretty well, blocking attacks and throwing grown men aside like they were nothing.

In the end, Michael fought away his guards and decided to aid Jim, pulling soldiers off of him until the enemy closed around them and pointed their guns. They had no choice but to stop.

Walking over to them, nursing his bruised head, was Lucas, calm as ever, ordering his men to search Jim.

"I have to say Sherriff," Lucas began, surprisingly void of anger, "the limp...very convincing. My father would have been impressed."

On the table, the soldiers placed Jim's possessions; a few terras and a couple of transponders. Lucas continued, the bitterness rising in his tone: "Did you, uh…did you have a good laugh about it? The last time you saw him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," claimed Jim, but Michael knew it was too late for him to feign ignorance. He had blown it.

"No?" Lucas said incredulously, the smallest scornful smile on his face. He picked up the device carefully and raised it so Jim could see. "A transponder…" He nodded, the angry smile still on his lips as he pieced it all together. "So that's how my father always knew when – where – to hit us. Planting these on our vehicles, Shannon? Clever." If he hadn't been so bitter, he might have been more impressed. "Where's my father?" he asked collectedly, the inevitable question.

The silence was torturous.

"_WHERE_ _**IS**__ HE_?" Lucas exploded. Also inevitable, his cool façade came crashing down around him, and he let his intimidating rage take over. But it wasn't enough to scare Jim, who remained quiet, staring back into Lucas' flaming green eyes.

But then he was composed again, just like that, the furious scowl replaced with a feeble smirk. "Maybe I can help you remember."

"Lucas," Michel said, as if saying his name again in that warning tone would deter him from doing whatever it was he was going to do next.

Of course, it never worked.

"Quiet, Michael!" he snapped, not taking his eyes away from the two Shannons. "Take him to the Brig. Both of them."

As the men took Josh and Jim Shannon away, Lucas approached Michael, smiling through his bloody mouth, seeming glad – glad that Jim was his father's accomplice rather than Michael. It showed what little he really knew.

"I have to deal with this," Lucas told him, seeming genuinely apologetic that their gathering had ended this way. His gaze flicked to Skye in the corner, still reeling from what had just transpired. "Why don't you help Mr. Boylan here clean up?" he suggested to Michael. "This will, uh, likely take a while."

Michael said nothing as Lucas left the bar, and his gaze settled on the mess that he had left behind. Chairs and blood and spilt drinks littered the floor.

Well, he thought spitefully, it wouldn't be the first time Lucas had left so much damage and chaos in his wake.

**TBC**


	30. Chapter 30

**Thick as Thieves chapter 30**

There was a pensive silence as Michael and Boylan cleared up the mess; only the low chatter from the dwindling crowds and the sound of tables and chairs being dragged back into place could be heard after the loud fighting and screams from earlier. Mopping up the spilt blood on the ground, he couldn't be sure who it belonged to; Jim, Josh, or Lucas? Either way, he shuddered as the thick red liquid merged with the soapy water, creating a sickly pinkish puddle.

"Y'alright?" Tom asked him as he collected the discarded wood from the remains of a broken chair.

Michael hardly looked up. "He's lost his mind," he uttered, still focusing on the putrid mix of blood and soap on the floor in front of him. "If I don't do something, he's going to hurt someone. What about the Shannons? He'll torture them. And once again, I'm here cleaning up Lucas' mess!" he grunted, throwing down the mop.

Tom looked over at him, his eyes bright with concern and sympathy. "Michael, it's not your job to worry about everything that goes wrong. Sometimes ya have to accept that things are out of ya control."

"Is it though?" Michael snapped, his frustration building. "He's _my _brother! _My _blood! If it's not my problem, then whose is it?" When he looked at Boylan, his face sombre and filled with something close to wisdom – yes, strangely enough, wisdom – he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, Tom. I just don't know what to do. And I've begun to realise that, family or not, I might have to hurt him. A lot. I might even have too…" Oh, God. He couldn't even finish. When Lucas had brought it up before, it had been unthinkable. But now, as he could only imagine the violent things Lucas was doing to Jim and Josh Shannon in that Brig, it seemed more and more like a possibility.

Could he do it? Could he kill the boy who had fallen out of that tree and bawled his eyes out all those years ago? The harmless little boy who failed at hide-and-seek and sobbed when he couldn't find his older brother?

But of course, he reminded himself once again, he was no boy anymore. And certainly not harmless.

"Hey," spoke up Boylan, finding his way over to Michael. "No one's talking about…bloody _killin_' anybody," he said quietly, reading the young Corporal like a book. "I know ya love Lucas. I know ya love your old man, too. No one expects ya to make any rash decisions. We'll find a way out of this, alright?"

Michael could muster up a taut smile, once again grateful for Tom's friendship. He dug a hand inside his pocket and felt the coin Boylan had given him press against his fingers. The barman knew what it was like to experience pain, loss. He knew how this affected Michael, who valued family above most other things. But Michael also knew Boylan, and he knew when he was just saying something to make him feel better.

One way or another, this was going to end with his brother's death. He had to prepare himself for that.

"I should find Doctor Shannon. She should know what happened."

Boylan nodded and patted Michael's shoulder. "It'll be alright, son," he said before disappearing to pick up some broken glass on the other side of the bar.

Michael paused, hearing the word _son _echo in his mind. It made him smile, and then he made his way up the steps, determined. It seemed Boylan's advice had given him an extra boost afterall, as if just hearing the words made everything better, even if he didn't quite believe them.

But then, as he reached the top of the stairs, all of that positivity faded, and he saw _them_.

And he felt his world come shattering down around him.

It was dark and they were concealed in the shadows, but he could clearly make out two figures embracing in the distance, their faces touching, their mouths together. It was Skye, on her tiptoes, pressed against Lucas, her lips raised to his in a meaningful kiss.

He hardly saw much else when he ducked behind a wall, his mind full of hurt and confusion. But that image was still in his mind – Lucas' arms around her petite frame, pulling her closer; Skye's hand on his cheek, her eyes closed, her lips crushing against his, deepening the kiss.

_What was going on?_

Was he mistaken? Was he imagining things? Clearly not, he thought, as the image of their passionate embrace still burned in his brain. It was real. It was…two-sided? But yes, the position of their bodies and the way Skye had leant up to his brother's tall build suggested Skye had initiated it. But why? He peered round again, breathing hard as if he had seen a ghost, but the two were gone.

Suddenly it all fit. Didn't it? The strange behaviour, what Lucas had meant about the two becoming close? They must be _together_. No matter how insane, it made sense. But at the same time, it didn't make any sense at all.

It was no secret Skye had feelings for Michael. Could she have transferred those feelings onto Lucas? He could still feel Skye's lips briefly on his at the waterfall, her alien touch, the strangeness of it. But that had been so long ago...

Now what was he supposed to think?

For all he knew, Skye was on Lucas' side, although the notion was ridiculous. But nothing was clear right now. He felt like everything was being split into puzzle pieces, and he couldn't find the right pieces to fit into the right places.

He couldn't trust Lucas, and that meant he could no longer trust Skye. He didn't want to believe it, but it was a possibility that the two were collaborating together in all this. What if working for the Sixers all that time, knowing about this impending attack, she had struck a deal for her and her mother to protect themselves? Was Taylor's new indifference to her so unbearable that she would turn against her own home?

His mind was a thrashing tidal wave of confusion. He didn't know what to think. What he did know was that Jim was in trouble. Talking to Lucas had proved useless, and he had no idea what Skye was up to, so he decided it was time for a new plan.

* * *

><p>He needed to find Elisabeth. She had to know what had happened if she hadn't heard already. And he needed an update from the Resistance. If he could find Alicia too, maybe she had an idea. But she wasn't at her house, so Michael headed over towards the Shannons'. It was almost curfew now and there weren't many people – just a few stragglers from the Phoenix Group army wandering aimlessly around, illuminated by the strobe of the spotlight. Thankfully they didn't pay him any notice.<p>

When he arrived at the Shannon household, the door opened so quickly that he couldn't get a good look at whoever was tugging him inside. When he realised it was Alicia, he was so relieved he almost forgot himself and kissed her right in front of the Shannons, who were busily shoving items into rucksacks.

"What's going on?" he asked, seeing Elisabeth packing food, blankets and other various objects into a bag, her three children looking nervous behind her as they collected their jackets.

His eyes instantly found Josh in the centre, his face still bruised and bloody, although a little cleaned up now. He still felt a pang of guilt and shame knowing Lucas and his brutes had done that to him, but at least it seemed as if Lucas had let him go before things got any worse.

Alicia lightly touched his shoulder, bringing his attention back on her. "We're getting out of here," she revealed. "Tonight."

Questions started to arise in him: out of the colony? But how? And where to? And what about everybody else? What about…

"What about Jim?" Michael spoke aloud, noticing the Sherriff hadn't made it back yet.

"He's coming too." Elisabeth barely looked up at him. She knew she had to work fast. "All of us. We're going to meet Commander Taylor at the treeline."

Michael thought quietly to himself, finding this all a shock: was it just him that had been kept in the dark? Were they just going to leave without him? And Skye? Did she know about this? He took a deep breath, remembering that kiss, wondering yet again the reasoning behind it.

"We were going to tell you," Alicia explained, sensing his confusion. Her warm smile convinced him she was telling the truth. "But Lucas seemed to have you on a pretty tight leash."

"You're telling me," he muttered, glad to finally be free of him. "I'm in."

"We haven't got long," Elisabeth cut in, handing Maddy one of the large rucksacks. "Weaver should be here any minute with Jim."

"Weaver?" Michael echoed disbelievingly.

"Doctor Shannon tricked him into letting Jim go," Alicia clarified, that familiar smirk on her lips. Michael mirrored her expression, impressed. He knew how foolish and impressionable Weaver could be, but he still got a kick out of Elisabeth manipulating him like that, however she did it.

"How are we going to make it past the guards?" Michael questioned, the adrenaline of a potential escape finally starting to take effect.

"Leave it to me," Alicia said, already backing out the door. "I'll meet you by the fence in twenty minutes."

She was about to head out when Michael grabbed her arm. "Wait! Where are you going?"

She halted and turned back to face him, realising he wasn't going to let go of her until she did. "Stay here until Shannon gets back," she instructed. "I won't be long."

"I'll come with you," he insisted.

She softened, a small-half smile appearing in the corner of her mouth. "You can't. There's something I need to do. I'll meet you soon."

"Alicia –"

"_Corporal._"

He sighed, recognising that tone, that strict gaze. "That an order?"

"That's an order." She smiled again briefly, lingering on his green-eyed gaze a little longer, and then she slipped out of his grasp and ran off into the distance.

When Weaver did arrive with Jim, he was less than happy to see Michael there waiting for him. His anger and confusion dissipated quickly though when Elisabeth gave him some kind of antidote. A trick, of course. Weaver's face in the few seconds before he passed out was priceless. He was suddenly glad he had stayed behind to see that.

Jim, however, was in an even worse state. He could barely stand. Was this really Lucas' doing?

"We have to go," Elisabeth ordered, she and Josh taking hold of Jim as they struggled over to the door.

"Just a second," Michael said as he dug into his jacket and found the last remaining tracker. "Just in case." He placed the device in Weaver's trouser pocket. _Mission accomplished, _he supposed as he smirked at Weaver's sweaty and unconscious body laid out on the couch. It was unlikely he was going to act on his threats and kill Michael in that state. Swiftly, he then followed the Shannons out of their unit and towards their meeting point.

Michael helped Josh with a groggy Jim as they escaped towards the fence and crouched down behind a cargo container. Guards were everywhere, frantically running and yelling, the spotlight illuminating every corner of darkness. Lucas must have discovered Jim's disappearance.

Michael waited impatiently for Alicia, peering over the containers, hoping to see her figure emerge from the shadows. It wasn't long before they heard the thumping of footsteps hurtling towards them, and then she appeared beside him, panting heavily.

"You made it," he smiled, relief washing over him, glad that she was safe and back with him where he wanted her.

She smiled briefly at him and then she took something out from her jacket pocket. "We were right about the new perimeter grid. I disabled it with this controller." Michael saw that the device in her hand was displaying a map of the colony, specifically the section that they were currently positioned in. "We've got five minutes before they realise that this section is down."

"Where'd you get your hands on that?" Jim questioned, still wincing from his wounds.

"Swiped it off a very drunk guard at Boylan's," she replied, smirking slightly.

"Yeah, well he's not going to stay drunk forever, Li," Michael said, realising too late that he had used her nickname in public. Alicia only looked at him, her eyes full of warmth and determination.

"I know," she said softly.

"If they trace that back to you, they'll know you helped us escape," Jim pointed out. "You've gotta come with us."

"She is," Michael broke in. "Of course she is."

Alicia paused a beat, tearing her gaze from Michael and instead looking down sombrely at the ground. "A hundred yards. You'll never make it to the treeline unless someone distracts those guards."

Michael had a puzzled smile on his lips. _She wasn't serious? _ He shook his head, confused.

"Alicia…?"

"Wash, the plan was for you to come with us."

Michael barely heard Jim speaking. He could only stare at Alicia as she gently shook her head.

"There's no other way. You go, and you save your family." She looked back cautiously. "Give Taylor a message for me, would you? Remind him about Chula Chaum."

"Chula Chaum? I don't know what that is."

"He'll understand."

Jim and Alicia's voices were distant in his ears. All Michael could think about was that she was going on a suicide mission. She was going to get hurt, and she knew it. She was brave and determined and Michael loved her for it, but he hated her for it too. He knew there was no point in trying to change her mind, so he quickly made a decision of his own.

"If you're staying, then I'm staying too," Michael declared with almost as much strength and perseverance as Wash had displayed.

"No, Michael. You need to go with them."

"Not without you," he argued, though the previous confidence in his voice and demeanour was fading fast.

He saw her eyes gleaming, a thin film of unshed tears forming over them, and it broke his heart. "Please," she almost whispered to him. "Help the Shannons. Be with your father – I know together you can save the colony."

His breath caught in his throat; he felt his chest restrict painfully.

"Now," she breathed shakily, "you all get ready to run like hell."

"How do we know when?" Michael heard Elisabeth behind him.

"Wait for my signal. You'll know."

Michael didn't care about the signal, he didn't care about escaping. Not anymore. Not if Alicia wasn't coming with them. Before she got to her feet, he pulled her down again, his heart racing.

"I'm not leaving you," he whispered, his hand tight around her arm, refusing to let go. He didn't care about the curious looks from the Shannon family.

"You have to," she said quietly, her brown eyes shining, reflecting the beams of light that threatened to expose them. She touched his face gently with her hand, a sad smile on her lips. "I want you to be safe."

Then, as if they had been alone, as if she didn't mind the five other pairs of eyes that were surely watching them, she took his face in both hands and pressed her lips to his. This kiss was long; meaningful. Special. She kissed him like it was their first, as if the feeling of their lips and bodies entwined was a fresh and alien experience. Michael pulled her closer, feeling her heart pounding as hard as his, her body trembling, her soft skin brushing against him. He felt all her warmth, her courage, her love for him dissolve into that kiss. He felt like confessing his own love to her then, over and over. _I love you, I love you so much._

But both remained silent, perhaps not wanting to break away from the other, perhaps because of the startled gazes of the family beside them who had just discovered their long, hidden secret. Or perhaps he was simply afraid; afraid that once again, even though the kiss had convinced him otherwise, she would not say it back.

When he opened his eyelids, it was already too late. She had slipped out of his grasp, sprinting off and leaving them in a stunned silence. Michael's heart and head were racing; he felt dizzy. He needed to go after her. He needed to help. But when he got off his feet, he felt a force pull him back down into the dirt.

"She told you to stay put!" Jim hissed, quickly recovering from the confusion that was surely spiralling through his head at that moment.

"I'm not letting her get hurt!" Michael tried not to yell.

"And I'm not letting you put us all in danger," Jim barked, restraining Michael with some difficulty.

"I swear to God, Shannon, you better let me go or –"

"Or what?" Jim asked, disdain in his voice. "You're gonna get yourself killed out there!"

Michael didn't care. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins, his chest feeling like it was about to burst open. _I can't just sit here, this is torture!_

But then came the signal; a deafening explosion, bright flames rising high into the air. And then another, followed by confused screams and the sounds of feet running in all directions.

"Now!" cried Jim, struggling as he leapt up. "Come on!" He tugged Michael up and dragged him despite an obvious limp in his step.

Michael hesitated, but when he saw a guard running in their direction, it was like he had woken up, his mind springing back into action. He immediately ran for the soldier, knocking him to the ground and getting in a few good punches. "Go!" he yelled to the Shannons, giving the soldier one last kick before running over to the fence where the family were crawling through.

He let Jim lean on him for support as they hurried over to the treeline , away from the colony where a Rhino vehicle was awaiting them. And standing just beside it – his father. Finally.

Dunham arrived to meet them half-way and he escorted them over to the Commander.

"Dad," Michael said through heavy breaths, relieved to finally reunite with his father. He looked good; determined. But Taylor barely looked at him.

"Michael. Shannons." He simply nodded them a greeting. "Load up, we gotta go." As the Shannon family loaded onto the vehicle, Michael hung back, his heart still thumping hard. "What's wrong?" Taylor questioned, sensing his hesitation, realising someone was missing. "Where's Wash?"

Michael swallowed hard, already feeling the guilt of leaving her.

"She stayed behind," Jim answered regretfully. "So we could get out."

The Commander took up his binoculars and looked out towards the colony. Michael followed, squinting at what looked like a crowd of people. "What is it?" Michael queried when Taylor lowered his binoculars, a pale look of dread in his features. "What's happening?" He snatched the binoculars and saw for himself.

There she was, beautiful and strong Alicia, on her knees in front of Lucas. He watched her rise to her feet, glowering at Lucas, full of fearlessness and tenacity. He saw him pull out his gun.

Michael dropped the binoculars to the ground.

"We have to go back for her!"

Taylor grabbed his weapon but Jim stopped him. "Taylor, no. It's suicide. You can't."

Michael couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Dad, _please_. We can't leave her!"

Suddenly Michael saw Mira in his mind, her gun aimed for Wash's head, demanding the box. His father had given in then, why not now? Why not now, when Alicia's life depended on it?

Everyone was silent. Michael searched his father's gaze desperately, but the Commander shook his head. There were no words. No words at all.

So Michael took off by himself. Running, running, running as fast as he could. Back to the colony, back to Alicia, his father screaming after him:

"MICHAEL, NO!"

He slipped back through the fence, stumbling over the unconscious guard, and he continued running. When he came to the crowd, he didn't stop. He pushed through violently, not caring who was in his way.

He could smell the fires; feel the smoke burning his lungs. He heard Lucas shouting and he saw the flash of his gun, and then Alicia's strong, defiant gaze staring back at it.

"ALICIA!" he yelled as two soldiers grabbed him and held him back, his heart beating faster than ever, his entire body shuddering and shivering with fear and desperation. As he struggled, he was kneed in the ribs and he felt the air escape his lungs, doubling over, spluttering.

But he could still see through a gap in the growing crowd. The sly smirk was on her face, sadder than ever before, tragic and wonderful. She stared at Lucas, refusing to answer his demands, and she glimpsed Michael in the crowd, her smile growing yet her dark eyes gleaming wet.

"You know, you both look so alike. You and your brother," he heard her say to Lucas, her voice softly floating towards him on the wind. "You both have your father's eyes."

She smiled again, looking towards Michael. Still fighting to get to her, thrashing and crying out for her, he watched her lips move slowly, mouthing something:

_I. _

_Love. _

_You._

At last. He stopped. He took it all in. He saw the gleam in Alicia's eyes and knew it was true.

_She loved him._

But then –

The gun went off.

An ear-piercing bang as it echoed through the colony.

And Alicia's entire frame jerked backwards.

"_**NO**_!" Michael screamed, a sudden burst of energy causing him to break free of the soldiers, injuring them in the process. "_**ALICIA**_!"

He saw her body collapsed on the floor, bobbing in and out of view as he pushed and wrestled more soldiers out of the way. _No, no, no, no, no._

At last he reached her, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. She didn't speak, didn't move. He dropped down on the floor next to her and scooped her up in his arms. She was so light as he held her to him, trying desperately to feel her last bit of warmth as he sobbed into her flowing dark hair.

It was unspeakable pain. He felt it like a ball of knives rattling around in his chest, rising up to his throat and choking him.

"No," he cried, snivelling, as if his words could bring her back – that maybe if he refused to believe it, she would open her eyes and smile up at him. "Li. _Please_, no." Then the rest of his words were masked by raw, hideous weeps that clenched his rib cage tightly, forcing in air to breathe, even though he felt like he was drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into a dark and watery abyss. He was alone there – just he and Alicia, and he stroked her hair and brushed her cheek with his thumb one last time.

It all sank into darkness with them – the first time they met, the endless patrols together, the innocent flirting, the first kiss and the talk of maybe – one day – children. But no, it all went sinking down, down, down. The future. It was all gone.

And he was left with nothing but this sharp, unbearable, stabbing _ache_ that filtered through his body, that made his head pulse with the most torturous pain he had ever felt.

_No. Come back to me. Please. __**Please**__._

_I. Love. You._

But what did it matter now? All that wasted time, all that heartache. She was gone, her head limp as he set it down delicately on the ground, watching her closed eyelids, as if she were only in a peaceful slumber. _Nothing to fear now; gone, gone, gone._

He stared at her for a moment longer, as if it were the very last time his eyes would have the opportunity to take in her beauty and everything it was about her that made his heart swell and ache with wonder. He wanted to take her in one final time, remember every feature, every detail.

And suddenly he was back, and the fire burned around them again, the haze of smoke mixing with the tears in his eyes, making them sting. He looked up and saw them all watching, astonished, confused. And then he saw Lucas standing over them with much the same expression, stunned by his brother's outburst, the gun still firm in his hand. The gun that had destroyed everything, and of course, _the man_.

Looking at Lucas, something finally snapped.

"_You_," he murmured throatily in between sniffs, wobbling back to his feet.

_The red of the blood, the red in his eyes. _Red, red, red. The devastation gradually twisting into rage.

Lucas.

This was all because of Lucas.

He suddenly felt an explosion inside him – _that murderous rage_ – the ball of knives slicing and scraping within him, now rattling inside his head. It hurt so much. And he leapt towards Lucas, bowling him over, shaking him: "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?" he bellowed madly between his pathetic cries of grief. His brother didn't retaliate, too stunned to react, not that he could. Michael would always be victorious in a fight with him. But not today.

Immediately, he was wrenched off of him, kicking and screaming as the soldiers restrained him, his face still damp and red. "I swear to God, Lucas, I'll make you pay for this!" he roared. "I'll make you pay!"

What was that in his eyes as Lucas climbed back to his feet, breathing heavily, trying and failing to compose himself? Was it fear? Regret, perhaps?

After a brief moment of stunned silence, he ordered his men to take the grieving Corporal to the Brig. They dragged him away, Michael still yelling threats, still aware of Alicia Washington's body lying there stiffly on that floor as they took him further and further away from her.

_Gone, all gone_, he thought miserably as she finally vanished from his view.

**TBC**

**A/N: So this chapter was pretty emotional. I know a lot of you wanted me to keep Wash alive - all I can say about that is to keep reading to see how that pans out. Thanks for checking out this chapter! :) **


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **Hi there! Sorry I have been away, I moved house last week and have been without internet for a while :( But I am back with the latest update and the next one I have already begun to type up so it shouldn't be _too_ long. I hope you will read and enjoy this one! Back soon :)

**Thick as Thieves Chapter 31**

In that familiar Brig, Michael sat alone for the rest of the night, propped up uncomfortably against a post with his hands cuffed tightly behind his back. The cold metal dug into his flesh, but he couldn't feel it, and he couldn't wipe away the rogue tears that dribbled down his face. He hardly blinked, his vision obscured by the damp film forming over his sore eyes. He saw nothing else but her as he played it over and over and over again in his head – her death. It sounded so wrong. But he had _seen_ it. He had seen the flow of her beautiful dark hair in that deathly wind, the gleam in her brown eyes, the small smirk of acceptance on her perfect lips, and how that all disappeared in the space of a few seconds.

How long had he been waiting for her to admit her love to him? Too long. He saw her lips move in his memory. _I love you. I love you. _He tried to hear her voice accompanied with the words, but all he could hear now was the loud bang and the thud of her body as it hit the ground.

He took in a shaky breath and tried to stop the unpleasant trembling in his torso, the ache in his chest as it swelled and throbbed. He felt sick, even more so when he heard the echo of footsteps approaching, and in walked the last person he wanted to see.

Almost as tired and pale as he was, Lucas stood over him, frowning – his greasy, smug attitude from hours previously seemingly erased completely. Now he was solemn, but Michael didn't give a damn. He didn't want to see him. He'd rather rot down here alone.

"Is it my turn?" Michael eventually croaked, his voice weak and hoarse from yelling. "Have you come to kill me too?"

Lucas was quiet for a change, his eyes flicking across the floor as if thinking vigorously. So Michael spoke for him:

"I'm all you have left. If you kill me, you'll have _nothing_. Is that what you want?"

"I didn't put you down here to kill you," replied Lucas, growing agitated. "I had to because you threatened me."

"You have _no idea_," Michael said vehemently, disinterested in his reasoning, "what you have taken away from me."

Lucas blinked and nodded, glancing downwards again. "That's right, I don't. But uh, I think I'm beginning to." A pause, as if he were contemplating what to say next and how he should adjust his tone. "I hope in time you can come to understand. I wasn't aware you and the Lieutenant had a…_relationship_."

Michael shot him the coldest glare he could manage through tear-soaked eyes. He tried desperately not to let any more fall. "As if you would have spared her if you'd known," he said hatefully.

Lucas avoided his gaze, still nodding. "I agree, you're probably right," he replied, and he finally lifted his eyes to Michael's. "I would have likely still shot her, but not for the reasons you think."

Michael sniffed, shifting in his bonds, the urge to break free and tackle him violently to the floor growing stronger and stronger. "And what reasons would those be?"

Lucas looked at him with a bemused look. "You really don't remember?" he questioned, a grave look of surprise in his features. "She's the reason for all of this."

"What the hell does that mean?" hissed Michael.

Lucas' eyebrows knitted together, his expression conveying his confusion at Michael's ignorance. "She's the reason why mom is dead," he said matter-of-factly, as if the statement were obvious.

Michael's whole body went cold, a shudder running through him. The mention of their mother made his heart ache all the more. "_What_?" he breathed. He didn't have the energy to figure Lucas out this time. How many more people could he blame for their mother's murder? "What are you talking about?"

"Somalia. Washington was there," Lucas explained, traces of bitterness in his low voice. "Don't you see? She was _supposed_ to be protecting us."

It felt like a meteorite had hit him – and Michael knew what that was like. He still had the scars from when the shockwave overturned his rover. He remembered the dreams he'd had that day, whilst he was unconscious, the fractured puzzle pieces of memories: Somalia, the gunshots, the smoke, Alicia dashing from one place to another, leading them – leading them to death.

"_She was there_," Michael whispered to himself, another one of his grievous headaches forming; pain on top of pain.

"Yes," encouraged Lucas. "She was. But she failed. She let the rebels take us. She _let_ mom die."

"_No_," Michael uttered, a chill running through his veins. He refused to believe it.

"It's true. And you know what?" His brother's face was filled with a conceited satisfaction. "I'm _glad _I shot her. I'm _glad_ she's dead."

Michael felt himself fight with his bonds again, prepared to take all his anger, all his pain out on his brother. He refused to let himself be taken in by Lucas' words again – this had nothing to do with Alicia. This was never her fault. This was about Lucas and how he'd smash and destroy anything that happened to get in his way.

"She was innocent," implored Michael. "She didn't deserve this!"

"_Was she_?" The rage and misery in Lucas' face was building the more Michael defended her. "Don't tell me you never saw it?"

"Saw what?"

Lucas swallowed hard, taking a step closer to his older brother. "The way they _were_ with each other – she and the Commander. It made me sick." As he said it, his lip curled with disgust, his angry eyes flashing at the memory. "Even as a child, I knew. All behind our mother's back!"

It took a second to realise what he was implying – an idea that Michael had chosen to reject long ago. Alicia and his father? No, they couldn't have. "You're wrong!" he cried.

"Don't be so naïve!" snapped Lucas viciously, his own eyes gleaming with more hate, even hurt "It was obvious! And they _knew_ how repulsed I was. They knew that if our mother was to find out, it would _destroy_ her. I wouldn't be surprised if that vile Lieutenant let the rebels take us on purpose."

"Stop!" Michael pleaded, feeling the tears prick his eyes again. "Dammit Lucas, shut up!"

"I hated her for what she did," continued Lucas mercilessly, the menace still in his eyes. "She and our father. They took someone I loved – they _ruined _me, and I'm going to do the same to them."

Michael rested his head against the post, breathing hard, exasperated by Lucas' mental torture. But he wouldn't let him tarnish his memories of Alicia. "I don't care," he murmured. "Nothing you can say will make me change how I felt about her. I will never stop loving her."

Outrage flashed in Lucas' eyes. "_How_? How _can_ you, knowing what you know now?"

"Because you're _wrong_. Because you didn't know her like I did. She always did what she believed was for the best! _Always_. She died protecting our father, and if I have to I'll do the same."

"Listen to yourself!" fumed Lucas. "Do you even believe what you're saying anymore?"

Michael glanced down, ignoring him. Of course he believed it. Of course he did…

Lucas huffed in annoyance and sat down opposite his brother, suddenly very quiet. Michael didn't have anything left to say anyway; he only watched Lucas in silence – his brother's expression now a lot more contemplative.

"Do you even think about her anymore? About our mother?" he asked after a long moment of quiet.

Michael hesitated to respond at first, still unaccustomed to dealing with Lucas' sudden shifts in temper. "Of course I do. I still dream of her sometimes."

"Tell me." Lucas seemed curious all of a sudden. "What kind of dreams?"

Michael took a moment to reply, surprised by the question. He remembered the dreams he'd had of their mother helping them with homework, reading them stories, playing chess with their father, and of course her endless hugs and kisses when a sobbing Lucas fell out of that big, dying tree. But for some reason, he didn't feel like sharing those with him. "Memories of when we were kids," he muttered softly. "That kind of thing."

Lucas scoffed and he leant forward, wringing his hands together. "You dream of happy memories. Do you know what I see whenever I close my eyes at night?" He paused, his gaze wide again with intense misery. "Her death. Over and over, every single night. I see her face, I hear her screams."

Michael shook his head, squeezing his eyelids shut. He didn't want to hear it. He couldn't handle any more pain, and he didn't want to sympathise with Lucas. Not now, after all he had done.

"The things I saw," Lucas added, as if sensing Michael's discomfort, "can never ever be erased." He tapped his forehead with his index finger. "It's all in here, reminding me, telling me that someone has to pay."

"Do you think that will make everything better? Do you think that's what mom would have wanted you to do?"

"Don't talk about her like she's still here," hissed Lucas, jumping to his feet. "…Like anything I do still matters to her – she's _gone_. And for over ten years, the only thing that has kept me going is the thought of avenging her, of paying the Commander back for everything he's done. If not for her, then for me!"

"Right. Because you think he blames you." Michael remembered Lucas' stories about how the Commander looked at him, about his indifference towards him. "That you shouldn't even exist. Is that it?"

"Oh, I don't think. I _know_. The only reason he saved me is because our mother _begged _him to – _that_'s why he blames me. He didn't _want_ to save me. He'd rather I died than her."

Michael stared at him, seeing his mother, seeing Alicia – their deaths still weighing on his heart, knowing they'd still be here if it wasn't for Lucas. He couldn't even feel sorry for his brother anymore. "I wish you had," he said, not even regretting it this time. "Instead of her. I wish you'd died."

Lucas sighed, nodding slowly, and Michael caught a glimpse of something tragic in his eyes before he turned away. "I wish I had too," he murmured. "But it's too late for that now."

Lucas' disregard for his own life – the life that their father had rescued, the life that their mother had sacrificed herself for – only confirmed what he now knew for certain. There was no redemption for him. Never was.

"I thought there was hope for you," said Michael, feeling so numb he could not bring himself to stop the venom laced in his words. "Because you're still my brother...Because I still thought you'd give up this _exhausting_ quest for revenge and come home. For years I'd look out at the treeline and hope to see you walk through it. And even though you never did, I thought you still cared, deep down, because you saved my life that day by the falls. You patched me up, didn't you?"

After a long moment, Lucas nodded.

Michael smiled bitterly – he knew he had been right, but it didn't matter now. Obviously, saving Lucas from the perils of the jungle would not have saved his soul. "But you've finally made me realise, there is no hope for you. No one can help you."

Lucas stared down at him as if he had known it all along; as if he was relieved Michael would now stop trying to reform him. But Michael had to accept defeat now – the only way to stop Lucas was to kill him. He had accepted that too. He accepted it as soon as Alicia's body hit that hard ground, when he felt her life fade away in his arms.

"And just like you, I won't stop until justice is served…until you pay for what you've done. I'll do it for Alicia." The pain in his head hurt all over – he saw blotches in his vision, Lucas' figure distorting in front of him. "And I swear I'll make you regret ever laying eyes on her."

It was suddenly unbearable again – the pain, the anguish rushing through his head, the overwhelming ache that ran through his body. He leant his head back, seeing red again, breathing fast. He just wanted to get out of there. He wanted Alicia back. He wanted revenge.

"You feel that?" Lucas' voice brought him back, his blurry figure moving closer through the static before he bent down towards him. "Those 'headaches' you suffer from? All that anger you feel, that pain – it's _never _going to go away. It's going to get worse until it's all you _ever _feel." He paused, straightening up, looking down at Michael – pitying him. "Then you'll really be just like me."

He turned for the door and left Michael sitting there, begging inwardly for some relief.

* * *

><p>It must have been hours since their conversation but it was hard for him to tell down here. The migraine was persistent now - a faint ringing in his ear accompanying the mental ache – and Michael felt himself slipping.<p>

He had been drifting in and out of sleep ever since Lucas left. Visions of the vast adventures and misadventures that made up his first twenty-five years of life had been clouding up his head. He dreamt about home long before Terra Nova – their modest two-bedroom house, sharing a wonky old bunk-bed with his brother. He remembered staring up at the ceiling, fearing the world would fall on top of him or that he might fall with it. He remembered playing with Lucas when they were boys and the excitable thrill of their childish games, how it was all so simple then. He saw Somalia – the barren land, the cries of agony as his family fell apart. He dreamt of the portal, it's electric blue full of hope, full of promise. He dreamt of Alicia and how his eighteen-year-old self, full of mischief and arrogance, besotted with his superior, chanced a kiss with her on one of their many patrols; a kiss which, although returned with hesitance, made the earth stand still.

And he remembered Lucas taking that away.

Like his mother, he realised Alicia too had her own melody in his dreams; far-off, distant and full of warmth, boldness and beauty. But, to his dismay, he could not recall the tune when he was conscious.

Regrettably, Lucas' words kept circling round his head. Images of Alicia in Somalia kept appearing in his vision, and he could no longer think about her and his father together without wondering, without feeling nauseous at the notion that the two had been an item. He hated Lucas for telling him these things, he hated Lucas for everything that he had done, and so ideas of revenge continued to plague him whilst he slipped in and out of consciousness.

At one point, he was aware of somebody – he wasn't sure who – coming in to give him some water which he drank thirstily. The soothing liquid cooled his dry throat, but it did nothing for the pain and hallucinations. He tried desperately to stay awake, but his brain and body yearned for rest, and soon he gave in to darkness again.

When he felt more lucid, he thought he could hear Lucas and Weaver arguing outside, but he could not make out their heated conversation, so he slunk back down in his bonds, rejecting it all, and closed his eyes again.

* * *

><p><em>Click. Click.<em>

His cheeks were sore, and then he felt a hand collide with his face, slapping him on both sides.

_Click. Click._

"Come on, Corporal. Open your goddamn eyes."

Weaver was knelt in front of him, clicking his fingers in his ears, slapping him awake.

"Oh, good. Maybe now you'll co-operate."

Michael fought against the bright lights above Weaver as the doctor got to his feet. He could hardly see him, but he did notice the gun in his hand.

"Hey, I'm sorry about your girlfriend," Weaver said cruelly, "but you know, your brother's pretty intent on finding your father. Are you still going to pretend you don't know where he is?"

Looking at him through tired eyes, Michael said nothing.

Then he found himself looking down the barrel of Weaver's gun.

"You think you can make a fool of me? So glad you're awake for this, you son of a bitch."

Too exhausted to fight it, Michael watched him press the gun to his temple. Even though the last way he wanted to die was by Weaver's hand, even though he was scared of sharing Alicia's fate, he kept quiet. He did nothing except close his eyes.

But then he heard a voice at the door telling Weaver the truck was loaded up ready for him, and when Michael opened his eyes, he was gone.

In his next dream, he saw Weaver alone in the jungle, getting stomped on by a vengeful Brachiosaur.

* * *

><p>"Michael, you've gotta wake up. Please!"<p>

It was a voice that had comforted him before, but not now. Now it provoked confusion – anger. By the time he remembered why, he felt his hands become free from their bonds and slim arms propping him up, helping him to his feet.

Skye Tate's presence did not provide him with the relief he would have hoped for, but he was in no position to resist her help now.

"We need to be quick, she informed him. "Boylan can't distract those guards forever."

Mopping moisture from his brow, he stumbled for the exit, guided by Skye, and he noticed she had a gun in her hand that looked much like Boylan's old revolver.

"Just a few more steps," he heard Skye's voice direct him. He could only remember bits and pieces of their escape as Skye tugged him past buildings and over to the fence, to the very exit that they used to sneak out of on their many rebellious escapades.

She helped him climb through and into the passenger seat of a rover.

Suddenly Skye was driving at full speed, whipping past branches and trees and wildlife.

Whilst she took him to safety, Michael drifted back into a helpless sleep.

**TBC**


	32. Chapter 32

**Thick as Thieves Chapter 32**

"Come on. It's time to wake up."

He felt something cool being pressed to his lips and then the refreshing taste of water sliding down his throat.

"Good. Get your strength back up."

His eyes opened gently and he saw Skye standing outside the rover, holding the canteen to his mouth. The bright light and the overwhelming splashes of green behind Skye made him to want to squeeze his eyes shut again, but he fought against the urge to give in. He took the canteen automatically and drank the contents as if he hadn't tasted water in days. It helped. Now he knew where he was, in the middle of the jungle with Skye, her hand on his arm, blue eyes full of worry and guilt.

Guilt? But that made sense. He remembered now – that kiss; his inexorable confusion. Her betrayal would always sting the worst. He couldn't bare it.

He dropped the canteen and felt his emotions heightened to the point where he once again saw that peaceful green fade to red, felt the thunderous booming in his head like a drum.

"What's wrong?" he heard Skye ask, her touch on his arm starting to feel poisonous. He saw the same hand on Lucas' cheek – the two of them, death and betrayal following them wherever they went.

Why had she taken him here? Had Lucas asked her to? Was it his turn for execution? His heart beat painfully, paranoia clawing at him, and he noticed the revolver left disregarded in the driver's seat. So he grabbed it and pointed it in Skye's direction.

Instantly, she leapt back in a panic: "What are you doing?"

"Where is he?" Michael demanded, his breathing hard and his mind whirring.

"Who?"

"Lucas!"

"I don't –"

"Tell me the truth, Skye. Was this his idea? To lure me out here for another one of his games?"

"What are you talking about?" she cried. "You're delirious!"

He bit his lower lip in an effort to stop it quivering but he could do nothing to pacify the trembling of his hand as the gun rattled in his grip. "I don't want to hurt you, Skye. I just don't understand what's going on."

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "I can help."

"Don't," he growled. "I saw you two. I saw you together – you and him. I know that was real."

He watched as realisation dawned in her features. She looked down, blushing. "You don't understand, Michael. It's –"

"Do you _know_ what he did to Alicia?" he almost whispered, feeling his heart crush and break again. Skye bowed her head and admitted quietly that she did. "Then you know that I have to destroy him," he said, his voice deep and full of hurt. "I have to finish it. For her."

"_No_," she intoned, looking up at him with desperation in her wide eyes. Then louder: "No, Michael, you can't! This isn't like you…you're just grieving and it's too much for you to handle – I get that. Please just let me help you."

"It's too late for that!" he retorted. "There's nothing you can do. You can't bring her back. And Lucas won't stop until he kills my dad, until he takes away everything I care about – even you."

She shook her head. "_Michael_."

The gun wavered in his hand but he didn't let it drop. "I have to stop him, and the only way that's going to happen is if I put a bullet in his head."

The words tasted like dirt in his mouth, and that's how he felt – like a worthless piece of dirt.

Skye let out a small cry of protest: "I won't let you."

Her defence of him only made his rage – his need for retribution – that much greater.

"Get in the rover, Skye."

She did nothing.

"Just do it, Skye, please!"

That time, she obeyed, and she set herself down in the passenger seat where Michael had been. He drove them farther out into the jungle, and he knew where to go. He took her to the Sixer Camp – the place where all their deviation and betrayal had stemmed.

* * *

><p>At the abandoned Sixer Camp, Michael made the rover come to an abrupt halt. It was eerily quiet – the quietest he had ever seen it there. He easily remembered the last time he was here. He thought about how Skye and Lucas had acted together then and again felt foolish as to how he hadn't seen it all sooner. Glancing at the girl next to him, he saw that she was waiting patiently, watching him with an air of silent unease.<p>

He picked up the comm that had been left inside the rover's compartment and began to speak into it with a sense of boldness and urgency.

"This is Michael Taylor with a request to speak to Lucas immediately…whoever this is better put me on with him right now."

There were a few moments of silence, during which time Skye cautiously shifted in her seat beside him and began to murmur his name. She was cut off by Lucas' voice coming over the comm:

"_Michael, this is a surprise. You seem to have a habit of escaping my custody. Why don't you surrender now and I'll go easy on whoever broke you out_?"

How frustrating to hear the cockiness hadn't escaped his tone.

"I'm not contacting you to negotiate, _brother_. I'm here to give you instructions."

"_And they are_?"

"I'm at the Sixer Camp. I'm requesting you meet me here. Alone."

"_And why would I do that_?"

Michael paused, allowing himself to look again at poor Skye, her bright eyes wide with alarm. She looked much like the day he first met her – that scared little girl hiding in the bushes – back when he told her there was nothing to fear. He sighed.

"Because I have something you want."

He heard Lucas' arrogant scoff over the comm. "_Unless it's our father, I'm not really interested._"

"Guess again," Michael said, his jaw stiffening.

"_I'm not really in to guessing games anymore, Michael. How about you just tell me_?"

Michael paused again, trying to supress all the doubt he had. He needed to do this. He _needed_ to.

"Skye," he said finally.

He offered the comm to her as proof, and she confirmed her presence, nerves apparent in her voice.

For a long time there was nothing. Then: "_Give me an hour_."

Michael's heart began to beat fast again with the knowledge that his plan was working. He took back the comm. "Remember, come alone. If I see anyone but you coming through those woods, I'll shoot her."

The words felt like poison slipping from his lips and he heard Skye attempt to suppress a gasp. But he needed Lucas and Lucas only. He needed his brother to believe him, and right now, even though it sickened him, he felt like he'd do anything to come face to face with him again – to make him pay for what he had done.

The comm went dead. Michael was suddenly aware of how hard he was breathing – Skye too.

"Michael," she said gently (he was amazed at her ability to keep calm around a madman – but then again she _had _spent weeks dealing with his brother). "This isn't you. I know you're not gonna hurt me."

"You don't know _what_ I'm capable of!" he snapped feverishly, making her jump. "You don't know what it's been like. I've felt it inside me, drilling into me. I can't take it anymore, Skye. Maybe this is who we are, me and Lucas. I've done things I didn't think I could ever do – I've hurt people – and I can't…I can't control it anymore."

She breathed deeply, still sitting stiffly in her seat. She was being astonishingly patient. "Yes you can," she urged him. "I _know_ you. You're _not_ Lucas. You're one of the kindest people I've ever met. I knew it the first day I met you and you helped me to be brave. I knew it when my father died and you stayed up with me when I was so sad I couldn't fall asleep. You were there for me _and _my mom when I was dealing with the Sixers and there was no one else in this entire world I could tell!" Her wide eyes were watering now, pleading with him, and Michael felt his throat closing up, his own red eyes threatening even more tears. "Just don't do this, okay?"

He swallowed, his moist palms gripping the steering wheel tightly, wishing he could just accept her words and let her go. But this was the only way. Looking at Skye, he couldn't erase the image of her and Lucas together. "Then why?" he rasped. "Why are you protecting him? What's going on between you two? Do you love him?"

She shook her head, fighting back tears. She couldn't look at him. "When you saw us, I kissed him because I wanted him to let Josh go. And I did what you said – I took advantage of his feelings for me," she sniffed. "I planted the tracker on him, that was all."

Michael's head was busy, trying to understand her reasoning. It was a good excuse, but that was all it was: an excuse.

"Don't," he murmured. "Don't pretend that's all it was."

She swiped at her wet eyes. "Michael, please!" she begged.

"Tell me," he insisted.

She was quiet for a time, biting her lip, hesitating. He was the patient one now, curious and eager for her answer.

"I can't explain it, Michael. Don't ask me to. I've seen the things he's done and it makes me sick." She looked up at him suddenly, her face flashing anger and sadness at the same time. "But _you're _the one who made me care for him, remember? Before I even met him! Why did you have to tell me about him?" She slunk back in her seat, crossing both arms over her chest as if warming herself from a cold chill. "Now I _know_ him, just as you do, and I can't ignore that."

Michael sat back, running a hand through his thick hair. In some ways, he still felt betrayed. But at the same time, he knew it was his fault. He couldn't be angry with Skye – his best friend; his ally. He loved her. He always had. She had come to care for Lucas the same way Michael had. But his stories – the ones he had told Skye, the ones where she felt connected to him in some way – were now just that: stories.

Before all this – before Alicia – he had felt the same, determined that the Lucas from those many cheerful tales was still in there somewhere. But he had woken up to reality. Now all he felt was rage and heartache and he wanted this new Lucas to disappear forever. He wanted him to suffer.

"I'm sorry, Skye," he admitted softly, staring down at his hands on the wheel – hands that were capable of much eviler doings.

"It's okay." She smiled widely with relief. "It's going to be okay."

"No," he said, picking up the revolver and looking her in the eyes solemnly. "I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>Michael had instructed Skye to join him on the canopy. He didn't trust Lucas and he derived that they would get a better advantage from higher up. Reluctantly, she followed his orders and they set up on Mira's balcony. Michael surveyed the jungle carefully whilst Skye attempted to reason with him. With all her stubbornness and good-willed nature, she tried to make him see that he did not have to fall into the same destructive pattern that Lucas had – that maybe, one day, they could be brothers again.<p>

But he refused to be talked out of this. There wasn't a future for him and Lucas now. He could never forgive him for his sins, and he would _never _forgive him for Alicia. Michael had to do what the Resistance couldn't and put an end to Lucas' reign before anyone else suffered. Maybe if Lucas had valued their family bond, things would have been different. But clearly, he didn't.

"That's all I ever wanted, Skye," he said quietly, still clutching the revolver as his eyes scanned the distance. "But he doesn't care about me, he said as much."

"He does." She knelt down next to him. "I know you don't believe it, but he does. The way he talked about you, I could tell that he still cares."

Michael chewed his lower lip, avoiding looking at her, but he seemed a little less tense as soon as she had finished speaking. "What did he say?"

"He said that when you were younger, after your mom passed, he would have these nightmares and you would stay up with him until he fell asleep. And I said you used to do the same for me." She spoke at quick speed, her smile melancholic and desperately hopeful.

Michael was quiet for a beat, and then he softened and looked at her, surprise in his green eyes. "He never admitted that to anyone. He said he didn't want people to think he was weak."

She placed a tentative hand on his arm. "I know that he's dangerous. I'm not an idiot, I know he's beyond reason, but I also know you don't want to kill him. Don't let your grief control you, Michael. You can help him."

"How?" he cried jeeringly, despair in his voice. "What makes you think I can? He doesn't care what I say. I've had so many opportunities to stop him and I couldn't. I let him do it. I let him escape through the portal, I let him take over the colony, I let him kill…" He stopped there, feeling his sorrow hit him like a flood, pulling him under the crashing waves. "_I let_ _him kill Alicia_."

She tightened her grip on his arm, seeing his pain, feeling it herself. "That wasn't your fault," she said delicately. "I'm sorry about Lieutenant Washington. I know how much you loved her. I'm so sorry." As his eyes fixed on hers, he found it hard to keep fighting it. He kept seeing Alicia on the ground, shrinking in the distance as he was dragged away from her. He kept seeing Lucas with that gun and it made him sick. But Skye continued: "You're right. There's nothing I can do to take your pain away, but think – you're stronger than this – do you think killing your brother will make it alright? You're better than he is. He needs to see that there's another way."

He thought quietly for a few long seconds. She was right, of course, in some respects. He did still care about his brother, even though he detested him just as much. Killing him would not mend the rift in his heart. But she was wrong about one thing.

"There is no other way," said Michael in such a thick, gravelly voice that he reminded her more of Lucas.

They heard a faint calling in the distance. It was him. He emerged from the green, alone, seemingly unarmed.

"Stay here," Michael instructed. He placed the gun through his belt and climbed down the rope, his sore hands burning, and he landed face to face with Alicia's murderer.

"So, am I here to face my punishment?" Lucas asked, a haggard smile on his lips. He was returned with the darkest scowl Michael could manage. Lucas looked around. "Where is she?"

"She's safe," Michael answered. "I don't want you near her ever again."

The smile burned away. "That wasn't the deal."

"The deal was you meet me here, alone, and I wouldn't hurt her."

Arrogant certainty shone in his eyes and Lucas risked a step closer. "You expect me to believe you would? Our own sister?"

"_Enough_," Michael flared, wincing, as if Lucas' words physically pained him. "I know you feel something for her. Don't waste your breath lying about it. I just want you to be aware that I will not hesitate to use her against you."

The certainty in Lucas' expression eased away. His thick brows knitted together as he examined his elder brother. "Something died in you along with that Lieutenant, didn't it?" he said, intrigued.

"Don't you talk about her," seethed Michael as he took out Boylan's revolver. His enemy didn't even flinch. "Put your hands up."

Lucas put his hands behind his head without an ounce of fear in his bones. No, instead he seemed amused, even interested in how this was going to play out. He surprised Michael by stooping down to kneel in front of him, and then his expression was calmly expectant.

Michael studied him, knelt down silently in the mud, looking an absolute mess. They _were_ opposites, weren't they? _He_ was the animal, the brute, the vengeful monster. He looked it. Even donning fresh clothes, he appeared degenerated; scruffy and decrepit, like a homeless man. Bits of the old Lucas had peeled away, leaving this decaying shell. But this unclean, bad-postured, ill-mannered young man kneeling before him _was still_ his brothe_r_.

And now he knew how such a metamorphosis could occur. He thought about himself and how he must look, standing there, gun poised, misery and resentment burning within him. Beneath the neat uniform; the clean-shaven, fresh-faced appearance; the youthful, respectable glow, was a lie. Looking closer, his uniform was dirtied and torn, his face red and blotchy, a five o'clock shadow growing along his chin, and his usually combed hair stood up in unkempt spikes. Behind the façade of perfection were many imperfections. And here he was, standing with the weight of his own sins, prepared to kill his only brother, his heart full of aching blood-lust and vindictive hate.

Really, they were not opposites. But they were one of the same.

"So when are you going to do it?" uttered his clone. Those eyes, so familiar, laughing at him.

"Do what?" The gun shook, and suddenly Michael realised what he meant.

"Kill me," the empty voice of his brother replied.

Michael remembered it all now. At Hope Plaza, the two of them at the portal. The new start – _the day everything changes_. He could hear a teenage Lucas in his ear, telling them they could finally put the past behind them. He had promised everything was going to work out.

He _promised_.

And really, that was when the lying began.

But thinking about it now, recalling Lucas' face before Michael walked through the portal, before the electric blue absorbed him into a vibrant, new world, he could see it. He could see that _this _is what he had promised, and he had planned it all along.

Looking at Lucas, Michael felt his finger wrap around the trigger.

"Now," he answered.

**TBC**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: **So it turns out, the finale was wayyyy too long for one chapter, so I have split it into two! The one following this one will be the finale, and after that will be a short epilogue. I hope you like it!

**Thick as Thieves chapter 33**

Silence hung oppressively in the air, the blazing sun beating down on the twins where Michael held Boylan's revolver to his brother's skull. No protest passed Lucas' lips. He merely watched Michael with something close to amazement. How his responsible elder had faltered; how he'd let the malice and anger clamp on to his heart. It was deliciously ironic to Lucas, who had suffered the same transition years before. Perhaps his brother really would shoot him. He wasn't afraid to die, not since he was fourteen and those barbaric men, their eyes bulging savage hatred, took him and beat him and his mother senseless. He had been prepared to die then, and he was now. Again, he told himself his only regret would be not seeing his plan though. It would be a shame since he had been so close. But either scenario would provide some relief for his battered, tortured heart. At least, that's what he believed.

The revulsion in Michael's eyes was startling. The grief, Lucas thought, had quite obviously robbed him of his own sense. Or rather, it had _given_ him sense. Death was such an evil, permanent fate, but the real punishment was left to those who survived. It offered a true clarity as to how cruel and temporary life could be. They were all mortal, and death was inevitable. This was something Lucas accepted as a boy, when the most important person in his life had been brutally torn away from him. But Michael had been different. He had enjoyed life and love and believed that his family were everything. He found strength in their mother's passing, and in his loved ones, and had found a way to move on. He had a better morale than Lucas, who had given up long ago, and he had somehow found a way to be happy, despite everything.

This was why it was a marvel that he should be here now, crumbling to pieces before his brother. Lucas couldn't bring himself to be sad. Because now they were the same. And even though Michael had been ruined, the suffering would only make him stronger. It made him useful.

"This is…quite a transformation from the usual soldier-boy routine, isn't it?" Lucas drawled, sounding impressed. "Maybe there is hope for you afterall."

"_Lucas_," Michael said under his breath. "Shut up." He aimed the gun at his brother. He had been so prepared to shoot, but the longer he waited, the less he believed he could do it. "You don't know anything about me anymore."

"Oh, but I think I do," replied Lucas haughtily, and Michael held his ground as Lucas stood up again. "I can see it in you – all that…_frustration_. I know it well. And you know already it's not me who did that to you." He paused, and for some reason, Michael listened. "That look – the disappointment in his eyes – not even _you _could live up to the _Great Commander Taylor_'s expectations, could you?"

Michael's teeth were grinding together, his grip on the revolver tightening.

"I used to hate being compared to you, Michael. We look so alike, people always used to confuse me with you." He paused, his tongue sliding across his teeth as he let his thoughts consume him. "The funny thing was we were nothing like each other. It used to make me so angry. But now…" He stopped and chuckled. "Now, we're more alike than ever. Look at you. You'd be willing to murder me as penance for your…_precious_ Lieutenant. I'd argue her death was the best thing that ever happened to you. Now you –"

Before he could finish, Michael had dropped his weapon and had charged at him, tackling him back to the ground. He threw punches one after the other, feeling the satisfying crunch of his fists as they came into contact with Lucas' face. Lucas cried out and with his strength he managed to push Michael away and roll onto his stomach. Dazed, he wiped the blood from his mouth and nose, and he laughed hollowly through his cut lips.

"Good," he rasped, crawling back up to his feet, spitting blood. "You'll need that rage. Channel it towards _him_. Help me end it."

"I will never help you!" swore Michael, throwing another punch and hearing a crack underneath his fist. Lucas stumbled back and hissed with the pain, his hand rising to his nose as it gushed red.

Now it was clear that Lucas had lost his patience, seething like a wild animal through blood-soaked features. "How can you still be so loyal to him?!" he roared when he had regained his balance. "After the way he's treated us! Are you so blind that you still see him as that _heroic saviour _with the heart of gold? What is _wrong_ with you?"

Michael huffed angrily and shoved Lucas, pinning him against a tree with his arm. "What is wrong with _me_? Do you hear yourself? You talk about destroying worlds; murder! _You're_ the crazy one!"

Lucas kicked his shins, his whole body shaking with rage, and he struck Michael hard across his face. "You know I hate being called that," he scolded, punching him in the gut this time. Michael doubled over and Lucas stooped low to speak in his ear. "This whole place is what's crazy! This _Ultimate Leader_ you believe in! It's _sickening_!"

Growling, Michael grabbed Lucas and wrestled him to the ground again. He hit Lucas until his knuckles felt bruised, all his rage and hurt and misery making its artistic mark on his brother's face. Lucas writhed and fought back, and the two rolled through dirt and plant growth. But Michael had the upper hand. In addition to years of military training, he had the recent raging turmoil and hate-fuelled adrenaline rush to add to his list of strengths.

It was only when he felt a slicing in his skin that he realised Lucas had pulled out a knife. The wounds weren't deep enough to stop him, but they succeeded in weakening him, and Lucas managed to bring the knife to his face.

"STOP IT!" a female voice screamed, the words echoing relentlessly through the woods. They could see Skye beside them, holding the revolver in both hands. She was aiming straight for them.

Michael couldn't tell if she was aiming at him or Lucas. All he could concentrate on was the man below him, struggling against his iron grip as he tried to bring the knife close to his face. Michael was forcing the knife away, towards Lucas, but both men had acquired plenty of strength over the years and they had reached a temporary stalemate.

A quivering Skye let the gun tremble in her grasp, her mouth and eyes wide open, panicking.

"Skye," Michael panted heavily. "Help me!"

Lucas glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "_Bucket_," he implored. "He's going to kill me. Do something!"

Skye stared at the two of them, unsure what to do next, who to shoot. She cared for both men, but both had hurt her, and now both were capable of murdering each other. She had to make an impossible decision.

"Michael," grunted Lucas, turning his attention away from Skye, the knife hovering above his vision. "Please…please don't kill me. Not yet. Not until I'm finished here."

Michael tried not to let himself give in, his grip still secured on the knife and over Lucas' hand. "I thought you were prepared to die," his scratchy voice retorted. "That you were happy for Weaver to succeed you."

"That moron?" sneered Lucas. "He couldn't tell his left from his right! Besides…you know this is something I have to do for myself."

"Lucas," hissed Michael bitterly. "You're _pathetic_." The knife eased towards Lucas, the sharp metal making light contact with his chin. "For once I'm glad Mom's dead," he admitted in a harsh, throaty murmur, watching Lucas' expression change beneath him. "I'm glad…she can't see the monsters you and I've become…she'd be so ashamed."

"Don't…Don't say that," Lucas stammered, his fury slowly dissolving. His grip weakened, and the knife made a small slit beneath his jaw.

"It's true. She'd be ashamed to call us her sons! And you're right, Lucas. I do blame our father for what he's done to us. I've tried not to, but I can't deny how he's made me feel these past few years." Michael felt his head throbbing, his eyes welling up with those same sorrowful tears he had shed a million times by now. "The shame, the guilt, the humiliation. He made me feel like an outcast, like a prisoner, like _dirt_! I _hate _him for all of it."

Lucas' lip started to quiver in a childish sort of way; his eyes, obscured underneath pools of hot, salty tears. Michael didn't let this pitiful behaviour deter him from the overwhelming fire he had to unleash from his aching chest. He kept the knife close to Lucas' neck, kept the wound stinging.

"But most of all, I hate _you_," he persisted, seeing his words pain his brother the same way Lucas'words had hurt Michael hours previously. "I blame _you_. When you left you ruined _everything_. After you were gone, I _did_ see it in his eyes. That _look. _Every single day! I saw the disappointment. When he looked at me, all he saw was _you_." He spoke fast in between deep, agonising breaths. "And I believe you now, perhaps he _did_ blame you for Somalia. Perhaps he _did_ wish you had died. Because dammit, we'd still have our lives, and I'd still have my mother. It's all because of you. It's_ all_ because of _you_!"

"Michael, stop!" he heard Skye plead with him. But she was just a blur now. Holding that gun, faced with such an evil choice, she wasn't going to sink to their level.

"It's not my fault," Lucas wept, shaking his head, the tears spilling from his eyes. "Please, Michael. It's not my fault she died. It's not my fault."

Michael closed his eyes, hiding Lucas' juvenile blubbering from view. But all he saw was his beautiful mother, and his beautiful Alicia, standing side by side. And he couldn't forget why they were gone; he couldn't forgive. Lucas had stopped struggling. Instead he'd released his grip from the knife and had let his head drop to the floor, unleashing the tears he could no longer keep inside. Now was his chance. Michael tightened his fingers around the knife, breathing hard. He kept imagining the blade slicing across Lucas' neck, the blood flowing down his torso, his desperate cries coming to an abrupt halt. And then it would be over.

"It _is_ your fault," Michael said, suddenly deadpan, his stony eyes boring into Lucas'. "And it's your fault Alicia's gone, too."

"No," Lucas sniffed, shaking his head again, frowning sulkily. Michael hadn't seen him look quite like this since they were kids. "She's…she's not."

Michael paused, scrutinising Lucas' face as it dripped blood and tears. He pressed the knife a little harder underneath his jaw. "_What_?" he demanded.

"She's alive," Lucas said, a sullen look of remorse in his wet eyes.

Michael sat up, staring at him, unsure if he had heard right.

_She's alive._

That moment was surreal enough, but the sudden electric charge that pounded through him, the impact of what must have been a sonic which sent him flying into a tree trunk some distance away, made the entire thing feel like a dream.

When he came to, he still heard crying in the darkness. His heavy eyelids slowly opened and he thought he saw his brother and his father embracing, Lucas holding him tightly, weeping in to his shoulder. Michael thought he might be dreaming, or that the dizziness was playing with his vision. But no, there they were, and he watched as their father overcame his surprise, his hesitance, and wrapped his arms around his son as if that was all he had ever wanted.

Lucas, just like he was as a little kid, running off into his parents' arms whenever he and Michael had a fight.

"You're still my son," said their father, his arms tight around him. He seemed relieved and heartbroken at the same time. Skye was standing next to him with the revolver by her side, watching tearfully. The Commander looked as though he might let his own tears fall. "You're still my – "

Typical Lucas. He never did anything unless it was to get something he wanted.

The bloody knife was drawn out of his father's side, and he fell, Lucas standing above him triumphantly. He wiped the last crocodile tear from his cheek and caught his breath, watching the Commander kneel helplessly before him.

Michael caught a gasp in his throat and struggled to his feet, leaning against the tree for support as his head span. In the distance he locked on to Skye's appalled gaze, and he watched her bring the weapon back on Lucas.

"You going to shoot me, Bucket?" he asked her in such a low voice Michael almost couldn't hear. But he could still see his crazed, beguiling smile. "Go ahead…I want you to."

Skye pointed the gun, her grip no steadier than when it had been aimed at the both of them. "Put the knife down, Lucas. I don't wanna hurt you."

Lucas shook his head, sniffing, wiping blood and moisture from his face. "You wouldn't."

Skye stood frozen, but she managed to steady her aim at last, a sudden look of icy determination in her eyes.

"You couldn't choose between my brother and I," murmured Lucas, glancing over at Michael who was still leaning against the tree for support. "Do you really favour my father over me? Now that you know how he treats his offspring, his _supposed_ _loved-ones_?" A look of contempt swept over his features as he watched the old man clutching his wound beneath him. "_He _should be begging _me _for forgiveness."

He raised the knife.

"Lucas," Skye warned. "Don't."

Lucas gave her a look; a look that said he didn't care.

And then it happened: Lucas began to plunge towards the Commander with the knife, and then they heard the bang of the gun as Skye pulled the trigger.

Michael's heart stopped. He stumbled forwards. But Lucas was still standing, glancing down at the bullet in his chest. Michael saw his angry glare; his look of betrayal; his refusal to give up. He knew what was going to happen before it did.

Lucas made a second attempt, the knife soaring towards the Commander's chest, and then the second bang echoed through the clearing so loudly, and Michael felt the remainder of his broken heart shred in to its final pieces.

Lucas stumbled, and then he fell back in to the long grass, still and peaceful at last. His torturous quest had finally reached an end.

"NO!" Michael screamed. He felt his legs running. He felt himself kneeling down beside Lucas. He felt his endless supply of tears forcing their way through his eye sockets again. Lucas lay silent in the soft grass, his tormented heart and cluttered head for once at rest. _Not again, _Michael thought. _Not Lucas. _He couldn't suffer any more loss, afterall. He truly did see his brother in that terrible, mangled mess of a man. Especially now, with his eyelids closed, his face so placid. It was as if Lucas had finally found peace.

And now he would never know. _She's alive_. Had he meant Alicia? Had he been honest in his promise of a miracle? What had it meant?

Looking at Lucas now, he felt like a part of him had been ripped away. He had left Michael here alone. In agony. Because he still felt it: the frustration, the pain; the same agro Lucas had lived with for all these years. All of it was because of one man.

He raised his head to see Skye, her hand on her mouth, tears in her eyes. She threw down the gun and let a cry escape her lips.

The Commander was sitting on a rock, his hand over his bleeding wound. He looked at Lucas' body, frowning, and somehow Michael knew. He knew that Lucas had been right about him since the beginning.

_Broken toys_, he thought_. Damaged. Disposable_.

Really, it was the Commander who had ruined him. He had ruined them both.

Michael picked up the knife.

"What are you doing?" Skye cried, trying to hold back a sob.

He turned towards the Commander, eyes boring heartache and fury. "Is this what you wanted?" he spat, gesturing towards what was left of his brother. "You wanted him gone and now he is!"

"I never wanted this," the Commander said solemnly.

Michael turned the knife over in his palm, scowling at his father. "You should have let us look for him when he went missing. I could have brought him home; I could have helped him then – prevented all of this!"

"You know he'd been planning this long before he ever came here. There was no stopping him."

"He was right about you." The Corporal sniffed, biting back his sorrow; his realisation that he had been trying to live up to a lie. "I have wasted _my entire life _trying to live up to your standards, trying to make you proud of me."

"I _was _proud of you." The Commander struggled to stand, and for some reason Michael found himself taking a step back as Skye went to support him. "Both of you," he continued. "The day you boys came through that portal was the proudest day of my life." Michael watched his expression change again in to that cold, hard look. The one both Taylor sons knew well. "The day Lucas tried to overthrow me was the day I knew I had to make sure you wouldn't stray down the same path. But now…seeing what I've seen…I can hardly tell the difference between you anymore. So much anger, so much hate in you both...There's no place for that at Terra Nova."

With each word he said, Michael felt the familiar burning in his brain worsen. There was a pulsing behind his eyes that made him clench them shut. He replayed the past seven years in his head, remembering every occasion his father had belittled, ridiculed and humiliated him. He remembered all those arguments, all those lectures and chastisements. He remembered having to keep his love for Lieutenant Washington a secret due to his father thinking it unseemly. He remembered being locked up, interrogated, because he was not trusted. He remembered seeing the Commander's frosty eyes, glaring at him as if he were the enemy. It still stung.

Michael gripped onto the knife, raising it slightly. Even if he didn't intend to finish what Lucas had started, he at least wanted the Commander to think he had the guts to.

"Fine. So I'll leave," returned Michael. "If that's what you want; to have a second son nearly starve or freeze to death in the jungle."

"It's not safe out there," Skye spoke up, her arm still around Commander Taylor, helping him.

A bitter smile crossed his lips at Skye's sudden concern. "Then I'll go back through the portal to 2149. I'll see what my chances are there."

"You can't," Taylor said suddenly. "The bridge at Hope Plaza's been destroyed. There is no portal anymore."

Michael paused. The portal was gone? Forever? Cutting them off from the future had essentially signed their death warrants. Didn't he realise that? But he saw what option he was left with, and he didn't like it. "I'm not going anywhere with you," he muttered.

"You have no choice. I'll have you in my custody until I make a decision on what to do with you."

"So you can lock me up again? Deem me insane, like you did Lucas? So you can treat me like dirt, all over again? I refuse."

"I've made the mistake of letting one of you free to plot against me before, I won't do it again," said the Commander in a stern voice. "You'll return to Terra Nova under close guard."

"I won't," Michael protested, raising the knife in front of him. "I'm sick of being treated like the enemy. Have you learned nothing? Lucas is dead! That's on us!" he cried, looking back towards the patch of grass where Lucas' body had been left.

He stopped, a look of astonishment and paralysing confusion reanimating his features. The space where Lucas' body had landed was empty. He had gone.

His head snapped back towards Skye and the Commander, their expressions much the same.

"Where…where is he?" the girl stuttered, her lips parting as she looked around them.

_Lucas was alive, _Michael realised. He had to be quick. He had to find him. Taylor caught his panicked gaze and took a gentle step forwards.

"Michael…"

"Don't come near me!" shouted Michael, waving the knife at them. He risked one last regretful glimpse of Skye, her blue eyes wide and shining. He wanted to say he was sorry, he wanted her to know how much he loved her, how much she meant to him and that he had never wanted to hurt her, or anyone for that matter. But instead, he frowned regretfully, and he took off running into the deep jungle, his father calling after him.

_When you fight monsters, that's just what you become_, thought Michael, gripping the blood-soaked knife as he ran. _There's no changing that now._

_**TBC**_


	34. Chapter 34 - FINALE

**Thick as Thieves chapter 34 – FINALE**

* * *

><p><em>You've got my counsel thick as thieves<em>_  
><em>_If there's a crime, we'll keep it secret__  
><em>_For there's only trace amounts left in your blood_

_You may be a sinner, but you may be justified_

_Just keep your mouth shut__  
><em>_Keep your guard up__  
><em>_I swear I'll make it right._

~ Thick as Thieves, Dashboard Confessional

* * *

><p>He wouldn't stop running, not until he was as far away as possible from the Commander. Even though his entire body ached, even though he felt like he could cough up a lung, he wouldn't stop.<p>

"Lucas!" he screamed. "Lucas!"

Thrashing through branches and tripping over tree roots, Michael continued running, thorns and twigs scratching at him as he pushed himself through the harsh woods and rough terrain. He had to find him. The shrieks and growls of creatures surrounded him and he gripped on to the knife so hard his wrist began to feel just as sore as the rest of him.

"Lucas?!"

Above him, the sky was already setting, and as the light slowly receded, his chances of finding Lucas did too. Collapsing onto the turf, he struggled to breathe, his heart pounding inside his chest like it was trying to escape. He tried to crawl across the soily ground but it was no use. He had no strength left. His mind and body craved rest. The exhaustion was paralysing and soon his limbs were beginning to feel numb. He rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath, the large moon above him illuminating him as he fought to stay awake. Lucas had to be out there somewhere. He had to be alive. Michael needed him. He had no one else now. He had cut his ties with Terra Nova the moment he threatened Skye with that gun, and he only sealed his fate when he revealed his hateful, violent side to the Commander, the part he had been trying to suppress for so long.

Once again he felt the shame gnawing at him, the guilt. Look who he had become, what he was capable of. He couldn't blame the migraines anymore for this. He feared this was who he truly was, even without the Commander's help. Deep down he and Lucas really were the same.

_Lucas_. He needed to find him. It was all he could focus on now. He _needed_ him, _he needed_...

* * *

><p>The roar of an Allosaur in the distance brought him back to consciousness. He awoke with a start, and he was dismayed to see that the sun had risen in the blue sky, making him squint as the bright rays shone down on him.<p>

_Dammit._

He leapt up only to be greeted with the aches and pains of his various injuries. But there was no time to worry about that now. He forced himself to keep moving. He had lost an entire night already, Lucas could be dead by now.

About a klick from where he had passed out, Michael picked up on a trail. He was certain it had to be Lucas and the drops of blood he found next to the dried boot marks as he followed them only confirmed his suspicions.

He walked, he ran, he limped and he dragged himself for hours, farther and farther until he found him. The stubborn lunatic had staggered over to a small stream where he had no doubt spent the night. His grubby hand floated in the water whilst the rest of him lay exhaustedly against a tree. He was awake, though his expression was vacant, his eyes opening and closing lazily. His other hand was pressed to his wounds, the crimson red flowing through his fingers. Beside him was an Oversaur, catching the scent of Lucas' blood and circling him hungrily.

Michael jumped through the water, yelling, swiping at the beast with the knife. It roared at him, but he could tell it was scared. He slashed at it, forcing himself to get closer; closer until he could feel its hot breath as it drooled and bore its sharp fangs. He kicked it with his heavy boot and forced it back. Direct contact like this went against everything Guzman had taught him about combat with the dinosaurs, but he didn't care at that moment. Guz was dead, and Michael was desperate, he wasn't thinking. He sliced at it again and it howled and slunk off, disappearing into the undergrowth.

Panting, Michael dropped to his knees by Lucas and grabbed hold of him, shaking him. "Lucas. Lucas, wake up!"

His breaths were shallow, his body weak, but he was alive.

"Leave me to die," he grumbled feebly. "I don't want the Commander to see this."

"He isn't here," replied Michael. "It's just me. Come on, you need to get up."

"I said go away," snapped Lucas, hardly mustering up enough strength to summon the anger in his words.

"I'm not leaving you." Michael took Lucas' arm and supported him on his shoulder. Lucas groaned with pain, but he was too tired to argue, so he let his brother lead him to safety.

They had walked for only twenty minutes when Lucas asked to rest again. Michael set him down by another tree and noticed he was shivering. He knelt down by his younger brother and examined his wounds. Lucas didn't have the energy to fight him away as he did so. Michael was no medic, but he knew it was bad. Both bullets were still lodged in Lucas' chest. It looked like no vital organs were hit and the main concern was blood-loss. If he had medical assistance now he would likely survive, but they had no equipment with them and nowhere to go but back to the very place they had run from.

It sounded like the Commander would very soon be in control of the colony again, and Michael didn't want to come face to face with him now. But when he looked at his brother, slowly dying and wasting away in front of him, it was clear he had no choice.

"We need to try and make it back to Terra Nova," he suggested, reluctance in his voice.

"No," croaked Lucas, his bruised face becoming paler with each passing moment.

"But you need help…"

"You're only helping me because you want to know where she is."

Lucas looked up at him, seeing Michael's eyes light up with the same hope and optimism he thought had been lost to him.

"She? Do you mean Alicia?" he questioned, his heart racing wildly. "Is she alive?"

Lucas lowered his head weakly, frowning. "Yes," he sighed. "I can take you to her."

He almost let out a relieved cry. Not long ago, his whole world had broken apart with the belief that he had lost both Lucas and Alicia, and now – miraculously – it was if they had both come back to life. Of course, he had learnt not to trust everything his brother said to him, so he decided it was best to take caution to his words.

"You better be telling me the truth," he threatened, though inside he could not restrain his anticipation at the idea of seeing her again.

"Do you really think my employers would let me execute our father's closest ally?" Lucas muttered with disdain. "As much as I would have preferred her dead, that was just a show. I had more important plans for her."

"What kind of plans?" frowned Michael.

Lucas shifted uncomfortably, wincing. "She was my insurance…in case I couldn't find the Commander. Weaver took her back to 2149 with the cargo. She should be with my employers by now."

Michael looked down at him, horrified. He sat back against the tree, beside Lucas, the hope diminishing as quickly as it had arrived. He had been given a miracle only for it to be snatched away again.

"What?" Lucas asked, seeing the despair in his expression.

"The portal," Michael answered, looking down at his bruised knuckles and grimacing. "It's gone. The bridge was destroyed." He shook his head with the realisation he would never see Alicia Washington ever again. Parted by millions of years, forever separated. There was no way to get her back now.

At least he could take solace in the fact that she was alive. In the hands of the enemy, but alive. All he could do was hope that she was safe, wherever she was. He hoped she would be able to live a decent life in that poisonous wasteland, without him by her side. But who was he kidding? _He_ was the one who couldn't live without her. Alicia was stronger than he was. If anyone could survive in that world it was her. Still, he feared for her. They had left that world behind for a good reason, and it made everything hurt all the more, picturing her in that hell-hole, in the custody of Lucas' cynical employers. He wondered: would she miss him as desperately as he missed her?

Lucas looked up at the sunset above them. For a while they were both silent, lost in their thoughts, and then Michael saw the bright sparks shining in the dimming sky.

"It's a meteor shower," explained Lucas, as if reading his mind. "Come on…We need to get to the Badlands." He was suddenly more alert; determined.

"What is with that place?" enquired Michael, remembering how Mira had been ordered to survey the area. "What's out there?"

Lucas pulled himself up, grimacing with the agonising sting in his torso. Michael followed him up, his eyebrows knitting together with confusion. "I'm not sure. But I know we need to go there. It's our only chance."

Michael looked at him doubtfully. It was called The Badlands for a reason, he knew that much. And did he trust Lucas enough to be out there alone with him?

Sensing his hesitance, Lucas stared at him and for once his eyes seemed without malice, without bitterness. "If there's the slightest chance you'll get to see Washington again, it'll be out there."

This was enough to convince him. Even if it was a lie, Michael had to know for sure, and so they began their long trek into the unknown.

Walking through that tough terrain, supporting Lucas' weight as he struggled to hold himself up, Michael couldn't help thinking how differently things might have turned out. Although he hated Lucas for his crimes, for putting Alicia and the rest of the colony in danger, he could not have imagined coping with the guilt had he plunged that knife into Lucas like he'd intended.

He thought about how Skye was doing, having chosen her alliance with the Commander. For all she knew, both Taylor brothers were now dead, and one of them by her hand. Lucas was still very weak, his bloodied hand trembling as he held it over his wounds. He wondered if Lucas really would die as a result of the shooting, leaving Michael to survive out here alone in the fierce wilderness. Lucas had managed it for five years, but Michael doubted he'd make it even with all the compulsory survival training he'd been through. Mourning Lucas, separated from Alicia, loathed by Terra Nova, he would most likely have died in those first few isolated nights. Lucas had told him his need for revenge was what kept him going. But Michael's desire for vengeance would not have been a comfort. Unlike Lucas, he didn't want his father dead. His slowly burning resentment for him was new and strong, but he had decided he'd seen enough violence and bloodshed in his family. He would rather stay away from the old man, from all his so-called friends and neighbours, because he was so tired of it all. He was tired of _him_, of all the arguments and disagreements, the pressure and the judgement. He would never be free under his father's command. Not now.

And after what had happened, he had realised, he didn't want his brother dead either. He had known his death would not pacify the mental anguish he caused. But even to save the colony, to rid the world of a murderous lunatic, he would not have been able to live with himself if Lucas died now. He had given in to his pity once again. Lucas was nothing more but an angry, out of control child. And children needed discipline. They needed help, even if it seemed beyond them. No one was beyond saving, were they?

Perhaps his sudden compassion stemmed from the news that Lucas hadn't really murdered Alicia, or perhaps it came from the realisation that he was more like Lucas than he initially thought. To deny Lucas salvation surely meant that Michael himself was beyond redemption? And that thought lingered with him until they arrived at their destination hours later.

The Badlands wasn't that unlike the forests surrounding Terra Nova. In fact, it looked rather familiar. Besides the distant howls and grunts of the night-creatures hidden in the trees and bushes, there didn't seem much bad about The Badlands at all. It was dark, but the occasional spark of the meteor shower enabled them to see where they were going.

"Lucas," Michael whispered as his brother suddenly broke away from him, limping forwards. "What are we doing here?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he said.

After he had finished speaking, Michael noticed a light burning in the distance through some trees. Several lit torches seemed scattered around a clearing. Curiously, the brothers advanced through the shadows to see a camp had been set up.

This might have been a welcoming sight had it not been for the nightmare that slowly unfolded as they trudged further into the clearing. The camp, Michael realised with dread, was scattered with bodies. Looking closer, they could see the victims belonged to the Sixers and the Phoenix Group, their clothes shredded and their skin cut and mauled. At least half of the army were lying dead around them, and at least a third of the Sixers. Their leaders, Mira and Hooper, he could not see amongst the butchered bodies.

"What happened here?" Michael finally dared to ask, his blood running cold. Some of the bodies looked mutilated. He had never seen anything like it before. Had there been a battle here? An attack?

Lucas was mute as he weaved through the lifeless corpses. Unfazed, he slumped down by one of them, grunting as he did so, and started rummaging through a Phoenix Group soldier's pack. He found some bandages and began to wrap a tourniquet around his wounds. Shaking slightly, Michael knelt down beside him and helped him tie it, remembering how once Lucas had done the same for him.

"All I know is it's dangerous here," Lucas said darkly, pausing to cough into his palm. "Something that lives out here..."

"Something? Like what?"

Lucas shook his head. "I'm not sure…but I think these people came across it."

Michael finished tying the bandages and looked around him at the startling massacre. He felt the thick stench of death and blood clouding his lungs. "Why…why were they out here?"

Lucas coughed again, causing Michael to look at him with concern. "They didn't find it," he murmured.

"Find what?"

"I'll show you."

Lucas attempted to get to his feet. Michael went to help him when he saw it – the sticky, red droplets that covered his palm. He paled and grabbed his brother's wrist, examining it more closely.

"Lucas…the bullet must have nicked a lung."

"I know," he admitted hoarsely.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

But Lucas was already beginning to walk away from the campsite. "Come on. There's not much time."

Michael followed him, stepping over ghostly pale corpses and feeling a persistent chill shooting up and down his spine. They fought through more bushes and nettles until they reached a cave hidden behind some thick trees and shrubbery.

"Lucas…" The entrance was dark, and having witnessed what he just had, Michael wasn't overly keen on exploring what might be lurking in there. But Lucas had already disappeared inside, and so reluctantly Michael found himself treading the muddy ground towards the cave's shady mouth.

As he entered it, he was confronted with a sight he could never have anticipated.

Around them seemed to be piles of what Michael could only describe as some kind of treasure. Old and worn, but treasure nonetheless. It looked like a storage place for historical valuables. Michael picked up bronze chalices, engraved stone and ancient coins. The coins reminded him of the one Boylan had given him and he searched his pockets for it urgently. He found it and breathed a sigh of relief before clutching it tightly within his palm. He may never see Tom again, he didn't want to lose it. He hoped it would give him strength for whatever this turned out to be, because none of it made any sense to him, and he couldn't tell what Lucas thought as he pressed on, ignoring the jewels and artefacts that decorated the cave around him.

"Don't touch anything," he warned, his voice scratching in his throat.

"I…I don't understand," Michael replied, still gazing around him with awe. He looked up and saw the beams of moonlight shining on him, the glittering trails of the meteor shower shooting across the sky through the cracks in the top of the cave. "Do you know what this is?"

Lucas stopped and shook his head. "Mira found a ship's figurehead here somewhere, from centuries before our time." He paused and coughed more blood into his hand. He merely wiped it onto his already blood-stained clothes. "Our employers asked her to go here. They must know something but they never shared it with me. I was informed of something else though."

"Of what?" Michael caught up to him, trailing behind his brother as he led them deeper into the sombre cave. Michael shivered as the cold chill worsened. He suddenly became aware of a breeze inside the cave, and a light illuminating on the damp rocks.

"Of this," Lucas answered as they arrived at a blinding blue light, swirling violently in front of them.

Michael took a step forwards, astonished. He recognised that electric blue, he knew it well. "It's a portal," he muttered under his breath, watching the hypnotising glow beckon him. "But why? How?"

It was the first time Michael had seen that smirk on his brother's face since the shooting. "You should stop asking me questions I can't answer."

It wasn't often Lucas didn't have an answer for something like this. It was his life's work afterall. He had studied these things, mastered how to control them, and now here he was, presenting Michael with a phenomenon not even he could explain.

This was it; their salvation.

The overpowering relief almost paralysed him. He found himself grinning. This was how he was going to get Alicia back, this would be how he found redemption.

In those brief moments of silence, the two of them became aware that they were not alone. Michael spun around to see his father standing there, Jim Shannon beside him, grasping sonics in their hands. The sight of them made his heart jump and his body shudder with terror. Their father, holding so much inside that solemn gaze, stared back at them with the gun poised to shoot.

"You followed us?" questioned Michael despairingly, wide-eyed and filled with panic.

He saw a map on a screen in Jim's hand and he remembered the tracker Skye had planted on Lucas. Cursing inwardly at himself for forgetting all about it, he glanced frantically back at Lucas who was standing by the portal, breathing hard, the determination still blazing in his eyes despite his languid posture. Everyone could see the blood seeping through his bandages and the wobble in his stance.

"You're too late!" he bellowed over the tumultuous noise of the portal, his words echoing through the large cave. "As long as the meteorite shower occurs, we can pass through. We're leaving."

"I can't let you do that, Lucas," said his father, a slight concern in his voice. "There's no anchor for that portal, who knows where it came from? Where you'll end up? I'm not letting you and your brother take that risk."

"Don't do anything stupid," added Jim. "You'll be safe if you come with us."

"Safe!" Lucas spat. "Do you hear that, Michael? They're promising us safety." He laughed hollowly. "_Nowhere_ here is safe. Least of all in that damn colony! I'd rather die."

"Me too," added Michael gloomily. Thinking of returning to his old home now made him feel repulsed. There was no way he wanted to go back there. All he felt when he remembered his years there was shame. If he went back there now, he would never be able to look anyone in the eye again.

"I want to make things right," the Commander declared, sighing. "You're still my sons. I accept the pain I may have caused you. But you have to be responsible for what you've done too. I need you both to come with us so we can fix this."

There was a brief pause. Michael considered how genuine his father's words truly were, and by the sounds of it, Lucas was doing the same.

"I don't believe you," Lucas muttered hatefully. "We're not your sons. You replaced us long ago. I pity anyone who idolises you. They're glorifying a lie. I saw it, and now Michael sees it too."

The Commander looked towards Michael, a speck of regret in his icy eyes. Michael turned his head away, avoiding his gaze.

"This isn't the end," promised Lucas, stifling a cough. It must have been clear to the Commander by now that he was close to dying. Even the flames in his eyes were dimming. "Next time, I'll bring a bigger army."

In one swift movement, Lucas had stepped through the portal, absorbed into that celestial blue. Michael watched with wide eyes as his brother vanished from this world and into another. There was no going back now. He stepped reluctantly towards the portal.

"Michael." The Commander came forward, his gaze much softer now, almost begging. But Michael knew the Commander never begged. It was too late now. He had decided. He would be lying to himself if he said there was nothing left for him at Terra Nova, but he knew returning there was not an option for him now. Alicia was still out there, in the decaying world they had left behind, and if this was the only way to reach her, he would take it. No matter how dangerous it was.

"Michael, you don't have to do this," Taylor said, taking another tentative step forwards. "It's too late for your brother, but it's not for you."

Michael bit his lip, his gaze focusing on the loud, vibrant circle of energy his brother had disappeared in to. Once again, he thought about Lucas in that tree from years ago, and how he should never have let him fall. He couldn't let him go now.

"Isn't it?" he asked, taking in one last, painful breath. Holding on to Tom's old coin, he shut his eyes tightly, feeling the gaze of the abyss watching him, promising to cleanse his suffering, and then he felt himself take a step closer and allowed the warm, rapturous light to consume him whole.

**End of Season One.**

**A/N: So, that was it! I hope you liked the direction I took this in, this ending with the cave in the Badlands was largely inspired by the animated comic ending on the DVD and I thought it was pretty cool so I decided to use it for this. I want to thank you guys for sticking with me and this fic for so long, your comments have been really wonderful and encouraging and I'm so honoured and pleased you have all enjoyed this as much as you have! OC fics are so hard, so I am so relieved and happy you guys have fallen in love with Michael as much as I have! Next will be the epilogue, a slight teaser into season 2, and then this fic will be complete. For those who are still wondering if I am making a sequel for season two, I will reiterate here that I hope to, but it will likely take a while as I am in my last year of Uni soon and have lots of other projects I hope to work on! I recommend you subscribe to me if you don't want to miss it! And I hope you guys won't forget about me until then lol. See you in the epilogue :)**


	35. Epilogue

**Thick as Thieves – Epilogue**

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><p><em>Chicago 2150<em>

* * *

><p>From one war into another.<p>

The Chicago resistance had sparked a few months after Hope Plaza was destroyed. The riots, however, had been instantaneous. Unsurprisingly, the loss of the portal – of mankind's only hope for survival – caused an outcry among the desperate public. A wave of violence and protests had hit the streets. Those who had been eligible for Terra Nova wreaked havoc in their outrage, but those who had never been eligible at all did most of the damage. The system was corrupt, and they wanted their government to feel their wrath.

Through thick, hazy air and bleak streets, they formed in large groups, waving signs, looting stores and smashing up anything that got in their way. They marched fearlessly in the dark smog, donned in worn-out coats, blankets, and outdated rebreathers. Many died from the toxins their rebreathers failed to filter out, but this only encouraged their allies to keep the fight going. The police could no longer handle the out-of-control violence that swept across the desolate city, so when the uprising began, a private army was enlisted to aid them in their struggle against the furious protesters.

Michael was once again in military uniform, but it was not one he was proud to wear. Still, he'd had five long months to become accustomed to it, even if he never would approve of it. He tugged on the red beret, the fabric making his skin itch as he and six other Phoenix Group volunteers took up their positions in an abandoned post office.

"I don't think they're coming, Mike," a voice said beside him, aiming an assault rifle through a large crack in the window.

Michael lowered his rebreather, glancing over at his fellow soldier from his position at the front door. "They'll come."

There was a brief pause as his comrade shifted uncomfortably in his combat uniform. He was no standard Phoenix Group Soldier. The familiar pin on his beret was merely pretence. He was just a civilian who had joined up back when all the madness started, back when a large chunk of the original army had gone missing.

"What if they win?" he asked doubtfully. "What if they take the city?"

"They won't, Gus," said Michael, turning back to his post and keeping an eye on the streets through the window of the door. "Not if we have anything to do with it."

"I dunno…Ever since the news about Terra Nova, people just haven't been the same. Grief can make you do crazy things," admitted Gus.

"Tell me about it," he murmured, trying not to take his focus off the smoky, littered street ahead of them. He could feel Tom's old coin in his chest pocket as his heart started to race in anticipation for the fight.

"This world's the only one we got left now. What's the sense in making it worse for everyone?" another soldier remarked from behind them, crouched down by a second window near the back.

"I'll be happy to be rid of them," another quipped.

"Alright," said Michael, bringing the conversation to a halt. "Enough; put your masks back on before the toxins get in our system."

Bringing his own rebreather to his face, inhaling the clean, filtered air, Michael could see the graffiti screaming at him from here: "TERRA NOVA IS A LIE", "NO HOPE NO FUTURE", "NO PARADISE ONLY SACRIFICE", and other obscene threats and messages that somehow found their way into his dreams at night. Above them, just outside the building, was a motion billboard playing on a loop - the same words flashing in big, bold letters: "THE PHOENIX GROUP NEEDS VOLUNTEERS. SIGN UP NOW AND PROTECT YOUR COUNTRY."

Michael heaved another sigh.

The eerie silence was all that filled the miserable street until Michael heard a far-off noise. He poised his gun through the crack in the door, holding the rifle close, his finger ready on the trigger. And then he saw the mob swarming like bees around the corner, waving their weapons and signs wildly in the air.

"_HOPE DIES WITH HOPE PLAZA_," he read, frowning. "_Terra Nova's End is Humanity's End_."

Michael gave the order to fire. He knew how this went down by now; they'd shoot, they'd kill, they'd die, and then they'd keep going until a side won. But these people had accepted death already. They had accepted it as soon as Hope Plaza went up in flames. There was no life here now. All they wanted was to fight; to die with dignity and to make those responsible for their pain suffer.

This was his life now, and as he fired the rounds of his rifle, he became aware of a body falling down next to him.

Gus fell back, a bullet having pierced through his neck, the red spilling out at an alarming rate. Panicked, Michael dropped beside him, holding him upright as the soldier squirmed and choked in his arms.

"Dammit," he cursed as he tore off his mask and inhaled the poisons. "Hang in there, Gus. You're gonna be fine, understand me?" He was met with a few helpless splutters as more thick blood poured from the wound. Michael reached into his med kit and pulled out some bandages to stop the blood flow, but it was clear there was nothing he could do.

He was vaguely aware of two more bodies dropping to the ground as the fighting ensued, and at this point he called for a retreat.

"It's okay," Michael kept repeating as the light faded from Gus' eyes. "We're gonna get you out of here. It's okay."

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><p>Gus' death was just one of many he had to report at the end of day. Another comrade, another friend gone. As the remaining Phoenix Group returned to base, Michael made his way across the polluted city in a Rhino Transport, passing ruins and fearful civilian bystanders just trying to find their way home. When the angry roar of the engine came to a halt outside a block of dilapidated-looking buildings, Michael marched towards the guarded iron doors and produced the ID from his coat pocket. The masked guard nodded and granted him entry.<p>

Inside, Michael took off his rebreather and inhaled the cool, fresh air from the filters that scaled the building. Other guards passed him and nodded to him as he approached the front desk. The woman there smiled tiredly at him and indicated that he could go up.

Climbing the stairs, still dressed in that ridiculous Phoenix Group beret, the blood still staining his uniform, he felt a cold chill disturb him. There was something about this building and his presence here that made him twitch and fidget uncomfortably. Something that made him feel like he'd rather be in combat than here. And he knew what.

On the top floor, passing the lab at the start of the corridor, Michael heard arguing coming from inside.

"What I'm trying to get you to understand is that _this takes time_."

"I understand that, Doctor Taylor. What I'm trying to get _you _to understand is that _time _is _money_."

Peering round the door, Michael saw his brother inside the cluttered lab, arguing with an older man in a suit.

"This took me years to achieve the first time and you people think I can do it again in the space of a few months?"

"We had a deal; we give you the cash, the supplies, you do as we ask and the Commander's fate is yours to decide. Now you already failed once, we _don't _expect you to do it again."

Sighing deeply, Lucas turned away from him and caught Michael's gaze as the lecture continued. He looked understandably tired and downcast, but not angry, and he did look a lot healthier than he had in the previous months. His eyes expressed a greeting, and he smiled a brief and forlorn smile as acknowledgement before the fatigued frown returned and he faced his employer again, the glowing codes and calculations suspended in the air around them.

Michael looked on him with empathy, and then he left the two and carried on towards the end of the corridor where he approached a door. He hesitated for a moment, and then he knocked twice and awaited a reply. A female voice then told him to enter.

Inside was an office, large and tidy; bare except for the bookcase, and the ornaments that decorated the steel desk ahead of him. Michael caught sight of a crystal swan and a miniature brass horse, staring at him through dull, beady eyes. Sitting at that desk was a woman, holding a plex in her hands. Through the transparent screen, Michael could see the videos and reports of today's battles and riots playing. Upon his arrival, she slowly lowered the plex to reveal herself; an older woman – a few decades older than Michael – with short red hair and red lipstick to match. She rose from her chair and greeted him, a tight smile forming in between her wrinkles.

"You're here for the official report," she stated mechanically, her brown eyes so callous as she stared into him.

"Yes." He swallowed, and then took a breath before he continued. "Among the dead – nine police officers, six Phoenix Group, and I've been informed of at least eleven rebels. Eight civilians were also counted."

"Good," she said, her red lips pursed in thought, linking her leather-gloved hands together. "Not great, but eleven dead rebels is eleven less of their Resistance." She strolled towards the window by her desk, gazing out at the polluted streets of the city with a small smirk. "Good work today."

Michael couldn't help but frown. For a moment he watched her by the window, straightening out her dress, the silky fabric even Michael knew was hard to come by these days. He seemed to be battling with himself for a while, and then he cleared his throat and spoke up in a loud, clear voice.

"I want to see her."

She paused, and then she turned slowly around to face him, giving him a look of indignation. "You'll see her when I say you can see her," she replied sternly.

Michael chewed his lower lip, failing to hide his frustration. "I want to see her now."

The woman scowled at him. Even though she was older and smaller, she wore a veil of intimidation that threatened anyone who dared to cross her. "Don't forget _you_ work for _me_. You _and_ your brother."

He swallowed hard, fighting back nerves. "You may have had my brother wrapped around your little finger all these years, but not me."

Her glare was the most powerful he had ever seen; it burned into him like a fire and it took all his strength not to break her angry gaze. "You're not squirming out of our little deal, are you?" she asked in a low, taut voice.

"No…"

"You want her to be safe, don't you? You want to get back to Terra Nova like we discussed?"

"Yes…

"Then you'll do as I say. As soon as your brother stabilises that portal, you'll get what you wish. I never broke my promise to him, why should I to you?"

Michel fidgeted. She was convincing in her words, part of the reason he was here now fighting for her army. But hearing Lucas' stories about her, knowing her now like he did, he knew she was the last person he wanted to put his trust in to.

She stepped closer to him, the lines in her face deepening as she frowned. "Do we have an understanding?"

Having no other option, he reluctantly nodded, the resentment clear in the jade green of his eyes as he met her fixed stare.

"Good." She sat back down at her desk, the storm in her semblance having passed. She switched her plex back on to the news, enthralled with the violence that was unfolding before her. "You may go."

"Yes, Ms Nichol," he replied, masking the revulsion in his tone. He turned for the door, his thoughts replaying every choice, every mistake that had led him to right here, right now, fighting with an army he hated, working for a woman who had brought so much ruin to his family. Inside he felt like running; sprinting down those steps, leaving all of this behind, making himself a new life. But he knew why he had to stay here. As he opened the door, looking back at his employer with the mask he was so used to wearing, he saw her false smile and felt her voice shuddering down his spine as she spoke:

"Goodnight…_Captain_ Taylor."

Dismally, he closed the door.

**End.**

**A/N: And that's it! Hope you liked it! Thanks again for all your reviews and support and hope to see you soon :)**


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